Revenge in A Minor
by AurelieViatcza
Summary: Ichigo is a young, promising violinist with a bright future ahead of him. Grimmjow is an enigmatic man with dark secrets and an even darker heritage. When the two meet by a twist of fickle fate, sparks fly and they are set onto a dangerous path. Can they overcome ancient grudges and vendettas to find love together?
1. Prologue

**New story?**

**So I got to listening to some of my favorite classical pieces and I was inspired -music is my creative lifeblood. It is only a short little introductory piece, but I was thrilled with it just the same. While I probably won't update this very often since I'm eyeballs deep into writing Dead World, I may pick it up in between Dead World chapters.**

**This will have violence, swearing and yaoi, so if those aren't your things then this may not be for you. For those of you who do like it... HOORAY! It will be a Grimm-Ichi and I'm thinking about throwing in a second couple but I'm still unsure since it is so early on in the story. Just give it a read and please tell me what you think!**

**...**

**...**

Striding through a long corridor alone, the tall, handsome man listened to the click of the heels of his shiny, black shoes on the polished marble floors. His long, corded legs clad in black slacks traversed the smooth black and white tiled floor as he sighed heavily. Hooking a finger in the high collar of his starched, white shirt, the man tugged at it lightly to loosen his lavender tie before letting his hand drop to his pocket watch on the chain attached to his charcoal grey waistcoat. Not pausing in his steps, he looked at the time and gave yet another sigh.

It would be morning soon. How he hated morning. It was only natural though; he'd been a nocturnal kind of person for as long as he could remember. Letting the ornate silver watch fall to dangle again from the silver chain, the man shoved his hand into a pocket in his black slacks. Passing tall, arching windows framed by deep burgundy, velvet curtains, the well dressed man made his way down the hall. There wasn't another being in sight, though he knew it was because the staff was all still asleep. He continued walking till he reached the tall, mahogany double doors he had been looking for.

Pushing them open, he stepped inside and closed the doors behind himself. Not needing to let his eyes adjust to the dark, the man strode confidently through the pitch black room, deftly dodging furniture others would have surely bumped into. Reaching another pair of doors in the room, he threw them back to reveal a softly lit dressing room. Feeling his fatigue finally take hold of him, the man went about undressing.

Unbuttoning the form fitting waistcoat, he removed the pocket watch and set it on a table before shrugging out of the waistcoat and tossing it aside. Kicking out of his shoes to reveal feet hidden in black dress socks, the man went about undoing his lavender tie as he used his feet to free himself of the confining socks. Tossing his tie to lie with the discarded waistcoat, he went about pulling his pristine white shirt from where it was tucked in his trousers. Unbuttoning the shirt with strong, swift fingers he shed the shirt to reveal the Greek statue of a man he was underneath.

Strongly muscled and well defined pectorals led down to washboard abs that drew the eye down even farther to catch a glimpse of the deep navy blue hair that started just beneath his navel and disappeared at the waistband of his trousers. Turning his swift fingers on the button of his pants, the man pulled them off slowly to reveal silky black boxers underneath.

Turning out of the dressing room, he flicked off the light and headed back into the room that was his lavish bedroom. Raking a hand through his soft, bed head tangle of baby blue hair, the man strode across the unlit room and fell onto his large comfortable bed. Sinking into the plush mattress, he pulled a sheet over his almost bare form and let his thoughts drift like discarded leaves on a river.

He was thoroughly bored. Life had become stagnate and unfulfilling. While he had everything one might desire under the roof of his massive, maze-like mansion, the blue haired man craved something more. Perhaps he would entertain himself by mingling with the outside world later tonight after he'd slept. That was always an activity that gave him some form of amusement.

With an almost morose sigh, the man finally drifted off to sleep as the sun rose and tried to worm its grey light past his thick, red, blackout curtains. Cradled in the pitch black of his luxurious room, the blue haired man slept soundly.

**…**

**…**

Warm. The rays of golden light filtered down through the thickly, green adorned branches of trees leaving mottled shadows on the sidewalk. Enjoying every moment of late summer heat that played along any teasingly revealed expanse of skin, a young man walked down the side walk with quick steps full of purpose. A soft, delightful melody, so complex and rich played through small ear buds into his ears as he enjoyed the dulcet tones of a piano piece. He felt like classical music today and it helped him ease into a more relaxed mood as he headed towards the local concert hall.

Carrying the small, hard case in his right hand while his left hefted the messenger bag on his lean shoulder, he took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of summer at its peak. He had practice today and he was looking forward to it. He had a big day coming up and he could hardly contain his excitement. Taking another deep breath, he tried to quell the jangling nerves and the thrill that brewed within him.

Turning the corner past the small cafe and onto the street the concert hall was on, a black limo with tinted windows passed. Checking his watch, the young man then glanced back up at the limousine that drove on by to stop at the tall building that looked to be made entirely of windows that lay across the street from the concert hall. It was fifteen past three; just like clockwork. Every day at three fifteen in the afternoon, the limousine would pull up to the large building, but the young man never saw anyone get out. It was a mystery and one that he enjoyed. He would divert himself with all kinds of theories that his fertile imagination could produce as to why the limo was there.

Today, he imagined that it was a clandestine meeting of sorts. A man, desperate to see his lover in secret who happened to be a beautiful cellist but their relationship had to be kept secret from the cellist's jealous and cold husband. He loved delicious stories like that, that showcased human nature and the desires that were often considered taboo. While he didn't condone infidelity, he liked stories where true love prevailed, though he generally kept that to himself.

Giving a sideways glance at the limousine, the young man flitted up the steps of the concert hall and disappeared inside the large, ornate double doors. The excitement and the nervousness was back in his stomach as he nodded at the doorman and made his way into the hall past the reception area.

It was a beautiful auditorium with deep, almost black, purple, velvet covered seats, an upper and a lower balcony, sweeping crystal chandeliers and paneled walls of the most richly colored wood. But what dominated the view was always the magnificent stage. Raised up three feet from floor level, the breathtaking depictions of hand carved angels, birds and other animals framed the sides of the stage on massive columns. Heavy stage curtains of a lovely wine red gave the entire stage a perfect background. It was the best place he could have dreamed of playing at for his debut.

"Ichi! Yer here!"

A willowy man with shoulder length pale blonde locks came out from behind the curtain and held his arms out wide before jumping off the stage and running up the center aisle towards the younger man. Setting his case and bag down, the young man smiled wide and braced himself for the inevitable attack hug. The two men collided and hugged fiercely for a moment before stepping back from one another.

"Shinji, it's great to finally see you again!" Ichigo said with glee as he gave his best friend yet another hug.

Shinji Hirako had been Ichigo Kurosaki's best friend since their early high school days back in Karakura. They had met when Shinji's family moved to town and the blonde was placed in the same school as Ichigo. The first time they had ever met, they had called each other names, laughed and had been best friends since. When Ichigo was accepted into a different university from Shinji, the two had to reluctantly split ways; until now.

Both young men had majored in music but the different universities had kept them at some distance. Ichigo's university happened to be here in this rich city, while Shinji's was nearly seven hundred miles away, but that never kept them from keeping in contact; technology was a truly wonderful thing. Today though, Shinji had just arrived in town for the huge performance that was happening soon at the concert hall.

"Oh my god, I missed you so damn much! So many lonely nights sitting up worrying 'bout you 'n panicking that you'd be picked on at school..." Shinji's voice took on a melodramatic and mocking quality as he laughed and patted Ichigo on the back. Ichigo laughed as well and gave his best friend a huge smile. Reaching a hand up, he took off his fedora and bent to pick up his things.

"What the fuck?" Shinji cried at the sight of the slightly younger man's hair.

"NO! What'd you do to yer gorgeous hair?" The blonde wailed as he gazed horrified at Ichigo's shiny, auburn spikes of hair. Reaching a hand up, Ichigo ran it through his hair and sighed, smiling sheepishly at Shinji.

"The university is fine with my natural hair color, but the orchestra wasn't. I had to dye it for the performance. I wasn't going to let my pride get in the way of my big day so I bought a box of dye and went to town. Does it look that horrible?"

Shinji stepped back and pursed his lips in thought as he looked over his friend with a critical eye. Shaking his head, his shoulders slumped in theatrical defeat.

"It doesn't look horrible, but it just ain't you. I miss yer gorgeous, bright orange hair. Stupid orchestra…" The blonde pouted.

"Well once I can play without having to be endorsed by an orchestra, I'll perform up on stage with my natural look and no one will stop me. Besides, it'll grow out. Now you said over the phone that you had a surprise for me. What is it?" Ichigo asked excitedly as the two walked down the aisle towards the stage.

"Nuh-uh. Not until after practice ta'day." Shinji said, his face transforming with hidden intent and merry mischief.

Ichigo eyed him suspiciously, but let it go without a fuss. Stepping up onto the stage, Ichigo set his things down and trotted to the rear of the stage and disappeared behind the curtain to grab a music stand. During the real performance he wouldn't be able to use a music stand as the whole piece he was to play had to be committed to memory. Again, the butterflies in his stomach flittered and fluttered madly inside him as a large grin broke out across his face. Resurfacing from behind the stage curtains, he took center stage and set the stand down.

"So are _you_ excited to get to play your own solo?" Ichigo asked Shinji. The blonde looked at him with a haughty demeanor as he gave an airy flip of his hand.

"Tch, no."

Ichigo froze in the action of bending down to grab his instrument case and looked across the stage at Shinji with intense scrutiny, not buying the blonde's bravado for a second.

"Ah hell, o' course. It seems I've been preparing mah whole life fer this, but I can't help but be uneasy at playing a piece on stage before hundreds of uppity rich people." As if to emphasize his distaste for their audience, Shinji rolled his eyes and shoved his nose as high into the air as it would go, looking out at the empty seats with disdain. Laughing, Ichigo opened the case and lovingly pulled out the beautiful instrument.

"Ya still have the same violin?" Shinji asked almost incredulously.

"Of course. It's a fantastic instrument. I know it and it knows me, you know?" Ichigo said softly as he defended the maple and spruce instrument, cradling it in his arms as he gave Shinji a mock wounded look.

"Yer silly you know that. Didn't anyone offer to get ya a new one?"

"Of course they did, but why do I need a new violin when this one works just fine?" Ichigo replied as he set the violin gently back into it padded case and picked up the bow to rosin it.

He wouldn't have said it aloud, but he felt like the violin had a part of his soul inside of it. He and that violin had been through an awful lot together. He had almost lost it during a rather messy breakup with his last boyfriend and again when his car was totaled. He walked away from the accident with a scratch or two and some bruises, but thankfully his violin was unharmed; though he did have to get around by foot now. Shinji stuck his tongue out and gave a dramatic shrug.

"If you insist. Yer the maestro." He said with a devilish wink and smile that told just how proud he was of his friend. Ichigo laughed and threw Shinji a disproving look.

"Maestro? Hardly!" He scoffed and shook his head at the blonde.

Ichigo picked up his violin and settled into the easy, comfortable posture that years and years of playing had given him. Cradling the neck of the worn yet still beautiful instrument, he settled his chin onto the chin rest and took a deep breath. Without any preamble or warm up, he launched into the complex piece and felt his entire being get into to the mood of the song.

It had a sultry pace and tone that pulled him in deeper. With a melancholy, graceful and yet enigmatic feel to the piece, Ichigo had always thought of a vampire sitting in a lavishly furnished room, preening under an admirer's attention whenever he played the song. He began to sway and move with the music as his eyes grew heavy and finally slid closed, paying no heed to the sheet music or to his hands; he didn't need it for this one.

He lost himself within the piece. He could see lush colors swirling past his black lids that formed into dancing figures that became more passionate in their dance with each crescendo. He could live in this world of lilting tones, sultry melodies and luscious movements forever, but all too soon the piece came to an end and his eyes opened.

The world was quiet and still as he regained his senses. Looking over he saw Shinji leaning against an ornate column, smiling with a look of pride and awe in his eyes.

"That was gorgeous; needs a cello though." He said with a wink to Ichigo.

"My accompanist isn't here and you don't know the piece. But yes, it will sound better with a cello to cover up any slip ups I make."

"Eh? Slip ups? That was brilliant! That director isn't pushing you too hard is he?"

Ichigo shook his head in a no. Shinji sighed and stepped forward with a twinkle in his eye.

"Ya know what you need? Fun. Ya still remember our favorite Voltaire song?" He asked the pseudo brunette that was his best friend.

Ichigo's face split with a huge grin as he nodded up and down excitedly. Without waiting further, Shinji dashed backstage and re-emerged with his cello, bow and a folding chair in his hands. Setting up beside Ichigo, Shinji began testing his strings as Ichigo desperately tried to remember exactly how the song went.

"Ready?" Shinji asked.

"Yep!"

Launching into an easy melody that reminded Ichigo of gypsies, he smiled wide and enjoyed every second of the haunting chords. A, A minor, D, E minor, all coming back to him before he even played them… it was as though he had played it yesterday. When he reached the point where Shinji began to sing, a wicked smile spread across the faces of both young men.

"_When the Devil is too busy, _

_and Death's a bit too much, _

_they call on me by name you see, _

_for my special touch…"_

Shinji joined in, accompanying him with his cello as they both began to sing along. Enjoying every moment of the song with his best friend, it was like they were in school again together. Throwing himself into the song Ichigo let his smooth tenor croon along with Shinji's and their combined playing.

"_This is the life, you see. _

_The Devil tips his hat to me! _

_I do it all because I'm evil! _

_And I do it all for free; _

_your tears are all the pay I'll ever need!"_

Going through each verse with just as much zest as the last, the two finished the song with a bout of laughter as they looked at each other in bubbly amusement. Reining in their peals of merriment, Ichigo looked to Shinji and smiled.

"It's good to be playing with you again." He said with heartfelt emotion. Words couldn't describe how much he had missed his best friend.

"Now that just sounds dirty Ichi!" Shinji said with a wry giggle.

Turning to the neglected sheet of music on the stand, Ichigo gave sigh as he looked over to the still chuckling blonde.

"Time to start practicing."

**…**

**…**

"Come, come now. You really should go. Just because _he_ might be there, doesn't mean you should avoid any notable events in society!"

Grimmjow tried his best to ignore the pink haired man who pleaded with him. Szayel Aporro Granz was one of Grimmjow's friends, in fact it was correct to say that he was one of two friends the antisocial bluenette had.

"If he's there, things will get messy and you know it. I hate him, he hates me and let's not forget I've a sworn oath to kill his kind." Grimmjow said grumpily as he roused himself from where he sat in a plush wingback chair. His heavy, silk dressing robe clung to his body, accentuating every nuance and curvature of muscle on his frame.

Striding across his darkened room towards the dressing room part walk in closet, he was annoyed when Szayel followed him. The pink haired man never had a concept of personal space or privacy, not that Grimmjow cared; he had the perfect body so why hide it?

"Really? You're too dramatic and stuck in the old ways. What happened to you being a rebel and telling anyone of authority to –as I recall- suck a dick? Going to a function like this would be good for you. If he is there, you'll ignore each other as the place will be packed with civilians."

Szayel did have a point. He knew his most hated enemy wouldn't make a move in a place like that; it was too flashy and would draw unwanted attention to himself. His kind liked to lurk and hide what they were. Looking to the vast amounts of clothes, Grimmjow decided he felt like wearing teal or navy colors today, but he wanted something a little more casual. Settling on pristine black jeans, a teal dress shirt and an off white vest, he let the robe fall off of his drool worthy body without a care for his audience as he grabbed for a fresh pair of underwear.

"You do know how to dress to compliment your natural appearance." Szayel said, looking over the things the bluenette had chosen. Grimmjow cocked a severe baby blue brow at the man's compliment, knowing it was an attempt to butter him up. When it didn't evoke a response from the bluenette, Szayel sighed and slunk into the enormous dressing room.

"All right. What if I told you that you could meet some attractive men? Would you go then? I'm sure your… _appetite _is in need of attention." That grabbed Grimmjow's interest. Pulling on his pants, he mulled the idea over. It didn't sound too bad. He could find a guy to entertain him for the night, but did that perk outweigh the chance of meeting with his long time enemy?

"It's the orchestra. Think about it… a man who's skilled with his fingers and hands." Szayel said in suggestive tones.

That was that. Grimmjow smirked crookedly. His friend was quite perverted but it was fine because he was as well. Buttoning up his shirt and leaving it untucked, he picked up his vest and slipped it on.

"Fine. I'll go. When is this event?" He asked the now excited pink haired man.

"This Friday! You better dress to the hilt as usual. It starts at seven in the evening so you'll have an hour or two to get ready since you tend to wake up around five or six and it's to be held at the Compton and Wilshire concert hall. "

Nodding absently, Grimmjow tuned any further words out. He had a feeling this event would be dull and full of pomp and ceremony just like all the others. They were too predictable and stagnate just like everything else in this city.

_Why does nothing pique my interest anymore…_

The bluenette thought sourly as he prepared himself for his day, or rather his night.

**…**

**…**

**Yes... When You're Evil by Voltaire is one of my faves. I always think of Grimmjow merrily beating the living hell out of Ichigo in the anime. xD**

**Please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think and if you all feel it's worth continuing. **

**~Aurelia**


	2. Chapter 1

**I got inspired to write another sooner. I needed a tiny break from writing Dead World and this served brilliantly as an escape. **

**So as this story has developed more and more, I will say there is some OOC-ness going on with a couple characters, but that's to be expected since this is an AU from the manga and the anime. But anyways, enjoy the story and please let me know what you think! :D**

**...**

**…**

"So what's this surprise then Shinji?" Ichigo asked as the two young men walked down the steps of the concert hall together. The blonde chuckled deviously and winked as he led the way down the sidewalk in the fading light of the evening.

"You'll just have to wait and see!" Shinji said excitedly.

Ichigo rolled his eyes and smiled at his friend as they both lugged their instruments in their cases with them to wherever it was Shinji was leading them. Breathing deeply, Ichigo let himself enjoy every nuance that was the smell of late summer.

All too soon the leaves would be fading and abandoning the arms they had grown upon to litter the ground like lovely confetti. Glancing across the street, Ichigo noted that the limousine was still there. Curious, but not enough to really care, he happily followed Shinji.

"So how have you been after your break up with Shuuhei?"

The question that came out of his friend's mouth made Ichigo wince a little. Shinji had the grace to look abashed that he had named the exboyfriend-who-should-not-be-named, but Ichigo smiled with weak amusement.

"I'm perfectly fine. I haven't heard from him in a long time; months even. I'd like it to remain that way." Ichigo said with a matter of fact nature.

Truth be told, there was still a twinge in his heart every time he thought of the man. When Ichigo had first met him, things had been wonderful and refreshingly new with Shuuhei's "fuck the rules" kind of attitude. But that initial wonderment had faded after he moved in with the man and discovered that his boyfriend had a propensity for drugs and beating Ichigo senseless.

While the ginger haired, now brunette youth was not weak or by any means defenseless, he had found it hard to fight back against Shuuhei. He had convinced himself that he had loved the man and had even gone as far as slighting his passion for the violin to appease him.

Shinji had been the one to talk sense into through instant message one night after the blonde had discovered what was going on. Ichigo ended it with the abusive man and had almost lost his precious violin in the process when Shuuhei flew into a rage and began destroying Ichigo's things. He grabbed some of his clothes, his violin and its accoutrements, his MP3 player, laptop and got the hell out of there.

It had been four months since then and he had yet to hear from the asshole. Taking another freeing breath of the evening air, Ichigo smiled wide at Shinji who looked a little worried still for his friend.

"I'm hungry. You?" Ichigo asked.

Shinji's face lit up as he nodded his head ecstatically at the question.

"Let's pick up some food then. I say we celebrate with sushi!" Ichigo said with zest, which drew a likewise reaction from Shinji.

"Alright what exactly are we celebrating? My solo? Your solo? Your freedom as an attractive single man?"

Ichigo smiled wide and laughed as he spun about in circle, his violin case held out at arm's length while his bag lifted away from his body from how fast he spun.

"Everything!" Ichigo laughed as Shinji giggled beside him.

Ceasing his spinning, Ichigo took the lead and brought them to a small store. Stepping through the automatic sliding doors of glass, he looked around the brightly lit store as he wandered in. While his job didn't allow him to afford much, he'd splurge this night no matter how expensive the sushi was.

Leaning over the cooled case, his face almost pressed against the glass while he looked, he didn't notice when Shinji slunk off further into the store. Finally selecting something that looked good and would be enough to feed them both, Ichigo turned round to see Shinji with a shit eating grin and a handful of beer.

"I'll buy the beer if you buy the sushi." Shinji said with his piano key smile as he waggled his eyebrows.

Ichigo almost groaned. The last time he and Shinji had drunk together, they had wound up playing a game that combined Trivial Pursuit and Twister in nothing but their underwear. Blushing slightly at the memory, Ichigo hung his head in mock melodrama as he smiled just as wide as the blonde.

"Ok. We are celebrating after all." Ichigo said, his rich tenor full of mirth.

After they made their purchases, Shinji again took the lead when Ichigo insisted they go to his apartment. Feeling very suspicious, Ichigo followed but asked questions the whole way, attempting to guess their destination.

"Is it a park?"

Shinji shook his head no.

"A long lost friend's place?"

Again another no for an answer, punctuated with a light, airy laugh.

"A club?"

Shinji laughed harder as he shook his head again in a negative.

"Dammit Shinji! Where are we going?" Ichigo nearly howled in light frustration.

"Keep you panties on dear, we're here." Shinji said in smug tones.

Looking about Ichigo found himself standing in front a seven story western styled building. Red brick walls rose up into the night with white window sills that featured beautiful black iron fences around lush window boxes full of summer flowers. Feeling a little confused, Ichigo looked to Shinji who had his wide, almost disturbing smile plastered to his face.

"Come on!" Shinji said as he dashed through the front door of the large building.

Following closely behind with violin case and plastic bag of sushi in hand, Ichigo saw the entrance of the building was just as western as the outside with a front desk that was empty for the night and two set of simple but lovely, red wooden stairs framing either side of the desk. Shinji picked the stairs on the left and began to ascend them as Ichigo bounded up them closely following behind him.

"God this cello is so damned heavy!" Shinji groaned as he lugged the large instrument in his right hand and held the beer in his left. Ichigo smiled and offered to take the beer form him to make it easier for the blonde, but Shinji wouldn't have any of it.

Climbing and climbing for what seemed like ages, they finally came to a stop on the top floor. Walking down a long hall with hardwood floors, they went all the way to the last door in the hall. Fumbling with some keys, Shinji unlocked the door and led the way inside the darkened room. Flicking a light on, Shinji turned to Ichigo and smiled as he set his cello case down to rest against a wall while he deposited his other things on a round dining table that sat in an alcove that featured a tall western window with a planter box.

"Welcome to my new place!" Shinji said with great pride as he spread his arms wide with no lack of grandeur to his pose.

"What?" Ichigo half whispered as he looked about the nice apartment in awe.

It was a large place. Beside the alcove with the table was what he assumed was the bathroom and then another door that was probably a bed room. On the right side of the alcove and dining table was another door that could only have been a second bedroom. The center of the room was open and the kitchen was to his right against the wall leaving an empty space at his left that Shinji had yet to fill up.

"I got a transfer and I'll be attending the same university as you as of next week after the performance." Shinji explained as he let his arms down. Smiling slyly at the still surprised Ichigo, Shinji waited for the pseudo brunette youth to respond.

"We're gonna need more beer to celebrate." Ichigo mumbled with a slowly spreading grin as he rushed in and tackled his friend with a ferocious hug.

**…**

**…**

"What do you mean he just disappeared?" The blue haired man nearly yelled in fury.

The one who was on the receiving end of his anger was a tall, lanky man. His long, silky, black hair hung in his face and trailed over his shoulders as he reclined back on a blood red settee. His slanted, almost-black-grey eye watched the bluenette with a bored expression, the other eye covered by a simple white patch that featured black straps that disappeared into his long hair.

Arms spread out over the back of the velvet settee and legs splayed before him in a casual manner, he lounged without much of a care. Running a long, supple tongue along the top row of his perfectly straight teeth, he rolled his visible eye at the man's frustration.

"I mean, Ulquiorra's little walkin' blood bag's missin'. I was trackin' him 'n then he just fell off the radar. I s'pect that Ulquiorra thinks we're s'ponsible." The one eyed man said.

Watching Grimmjow pace back and forth in front of his large, gilded desk, the black haired man plucked absently at his black jeans that covered his long, long legs. Sitting up straighter he leaned forward and captured Grimmjow's eyes with his one, the action causing a silver cross on a long silver chain to fall out of his half buttoned white shirt.

"Ya know he's gonna retaliate whether we did shit 'r not." He said with grim certainty.

"You're right. Dammit Nnoitra! This was the last thing we needed. Who else could have moved on his blood bond first? We needed that little fuck to close in on Schiffer's den."

Leaning back onto the plush settee, Nnoitra shrugged, leaving Grimmjow to think and pace as he growled to himself. For two weeks, Grimmjow had put Nnoitra in charge of tracking the blood bond of a nearly thousand year old vampire in an effort to find the vampire's place of rest. But just when they had thought they were close to Ulquiorra Schiffer, the vamp's only known blood bond -who was their lead- vanished.

"If his blood bond has been taken, Ulquiorra will probably be on the lookout for a new one. How long has his current one been missing?" Grimmjow asked Nnoitra.

"Hmmm… 'bout four days. Was only able ta figure out today that he was gone; had ta break in ta his apartment during the mornin' ta find it empty. There's nowhere else he could'a gone in the night without me notcin'."

Grimmjow weighed Nnoitra's words as he continued to pace about like a wild cat in a cage. Pausing in his pacing, he leaned against his desk and crossed his long legs as he braced his hands behind himself on the desk.

"Any signs of a struggle?"

"The place was fuckin' spotless, but I saw some telltale signs that he might'a struggled and then things were replaced 'n shit. The placed smelled of blood; could'a been another vamp." Nnoitra replied.

"It seems there's another player in our devious little game then." Came the smooth, confident tenor from the door to the lavish study.

Pink hair shone brightly in the artificial light as Szayel strode into the room. Reaching hand up, he ran his slender fingers through his shoulder length locks as he sauntered up to the other two men. Smiling licentiously at Nnoitra, the man sat in a leather wingback and crossed his legs elegantly.

Nnoitra eyed him up and down and took in the shock white slacks and the deep purple v neck sweater he wore with the sleeves rolled up, complete with a grey and black scarf round his slender neck. The man always dressed to the hilt and it always drew Nnoitra's eye.

Whiskey gold eyes glinting in the dim light, Szayel turned his attention to the bluenette.

"The other vampires in the area are small time and wouldn't dare move against Schiffer like that unless they thought they had the perfect scapegoat; like us for example." Szayel said.

"Then if it was another vampire, that leaves Aaroniero, Luppi and Halibel." Grimmjow said as he began to pace again, weighing every possibility.

"Halibel has taken to a rather unorthodox lifestyle for a vampire. She's distanced herself from the others for years now and hasn't fed on a human for even longer. I doubt she's responsible; she simply wants to be left alone and since she hasn't caused us problems we've let it remain that way." Szayel added. The pink haired man was right.

"Don't mean I still ain't itchin' for an excuse ta stake 'er." Nnoitra grumbled.

The one eyed man hated the blonde bombshell of a vampire due to her undeniable talent for mocking and belittling him. Other than volleyed insults, their spats never escalated due to Grimmjow and Szayel preventing it from doing so. She didn't cause any harm and Grimmjow wasn't interested in taking her out if she wasn't a problem.

"Aaroniero hasn't been in town for some time now. Last I heard, he'd been tracked to Belarus five months ago after that splashy kill put us on his trail. That only leaves Luppi, whom we've had just as much trouble pinning down." Grimmjow growled in frustration.

Luppi Antenor was a two hundred year old vampire who was a constant thorn in Grimmjow's side. The man –if one could call a blood drinking corpse that- was known for his violence and disregard for human life. He was responsible for many of the missing persons cases in the city and was far too good at evading them.

It wouldn't surprise Grimmjow in the slightest if Luppi took Schiffer's blood bond in an effort to frame them. The last thing Grimmjow wanted was for attention to be drawn to him and his friends who were hunting the ancient vampire the blood bond had belonged to.

Feeling his frustration brimming over, Grimmjow slammed his fist onto the desk.

"Fuck! Every fucking time I feel like I've gotten closer to finding Ulquiorra, he fucking slips through my hands like smoke!" Grimmjow shouted. Heaving a heavy sigh, he bared his unusually sharp canines in a snarling grimace.

"When was the last time you fed?" Szayel asked quietly.

Whirling on the pink haired man, Grimmjow gave him a look of warning. Wild azure eyes swirling with danger and aggravation, Grimmjow held Szayel's calm yet defiant gaze for a moment before the smaller man looked away.

"You know I hate feeding. I'll be just fine." The bluenette grated out between clenched pearly whites.

Sighing overdramatically, Szayel rolled his eyes once Grimmjow's back was turned. Looking over to Nnoitra, the pink haired man caught his expression. Nnoitra shrugged and offered no support on the issue. The lanky man never interfered with Grimmjow's habits and he knew the bluenette preferred it that way. Less drama for Nnoitra in the long run anyways.

Striding over to an empty chair, Grimmjow fell into it with a tired sigh. Shaking his head, he closed his eyes and slumped into the chair, rumpling his midnight blue waistcoat with his terrible posture. Raking a hand through his bedlam of blue locks, Grimmjow looked back to Szayel.

"I'm going to have to cancel going to orchestra."

Szayel's eyes widened with indignation as his mouth fell open to loudly complain, but Grimmjow continued speaking before the pink haired man got the chance.

"I need to find Ulquiorra and I need to get Luppi the fuck out of the way. I'm going to have my hands full and I can't afford to lose any time."

"No! You need to get your ass out into society and live your life a little dammit! I won't have you making the same mistakes with your life like your father did." Szayel said firmly.

"Don't talk about my father." Grimmjow's deep baritone deepened even further with a nearly murderous tone.

"Now ya fuckin' done it." Nnoitra mumbled from his spot on the settee.

He kept a wary eye on the two arguing men, knowing that the argument could escalate quickly. If it did, he'd do what he always did, which was pull the two apart and yell obscenities at them both.

"Your father was a great man, but he was a lonely shut in and as your friend I won't allow you to do that to yourself. You know he would have wanted you to live a life of your own and do the things he never got to do." Szayel insisted.

Grimmjow growled angrily when Szayel used that against him. The bluenette's respect for his late father ran deep and whenever Szayel brought up the man's last wishes for his only son, Grimmjow was overcome with guilt.

"Fine! You're fucking manipulative, you know that right?" The blue haired man said in a gravelly snarl.

"I do know that; it's part of my twisted charm." Szayel said sweetly as he batted his lashes at Grimmjow.

Ignoring the pink haired man, Grimmjow turned to Nnoitra.

"You coming to this thing too?" He asked, the question seeming more like a veiled order than a question at all.

"Nope. I'll stick ta bein' a coarse sonuva bitch. Music 'n high society ain't my kind 'o scene." Nnoitra said with a lopsided smirk. Grimmjow returned the smirk as he spoke.

"Good. Then you can keep the search up for Ulquiorra's blood bond and for Luppi."

Nnoitra sighed heavily, knowing that this would likely be the case. He didn't mind though. Being on the streets and finding people who didn't want to be found was his specialty. Standing up, he stretched languorously before he made a move for the door.

"Then I guess Imma get started on that." He said with another toothy grin.

**…**

**…**

** "**Jus' stay here Ichi!" Shinji drunkenly slurred to his ginger haired friend.

Ichigo smiled to the slender blonde but continued to pick up his bag to sling it around his shoulders.

"I need to get home. I have laundry, dishes and homework to do. I'd love to stay Shinji, but I just can't." Ichigo said as he laughed at the pouty face his friend made.

"But it's almos' two inna mornin'!" Shinji whined as he stumbled across the kitchen, his gold brown eyes wide with puppy like innocence.

Ichigo wobbled lightly as he bent to pick up his violin case. He knew he was a little more than buzzed and that he should probably stay here, but his apartment was four blocks away. It wasn't all that far and he had things at home he needed to do.

"I'm sorry Shinji, but I can't." Ichigo said apologetically.

Shinji flopped down to sit on his kitchen floor by the fridge with his knees bent splayed out awkwardly. Trying once more to give Ichigo the doe eyed look of pleading, Shinji pursed his lips in another pout and brought his hands up to his chin and folded them like a begging child.

"Nooooo…" Ichigo drawled as he let out a hearty chuckle. He didn't often laugh deeply like that as he hated how it sounded, but Shinji always managed to bring that laugh out; that and the alcohol helped too.

"Oh fine! Leave me all on mah lonesome!" Shinji wailed in mock drama as he giggled past a girlish hiccup.

Stooping down slowly so as not to fall down, Ichigo gave his best friend a hug and a farewell before he stood back up and headed for the door. Locking it, he quietly let himself out as Shinji began humming Never There by Cake between his giggles.

Walking down the barely lit hall of the huge apartment complex, Ichigo contemplated whether or not he should have put Shinji to bed. The blonde would most likely be up till dawn singing to everything he had from Bowie to Adele to GaGa. Stifling a snort of a laugh, Ichigo began the slightly perilous trek down the seven flights of stairs.

It had been an entirely pleasant surprise to learn that Shinji would be living here now. The amount of alcohol that would be drunk in the next few weeks between the two of them was a daunting concept. They would inevitably wind up furthering tonight's celebration for a while as they hadn't seen one another for a little over two years.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs to enter the eerily quiet lobby, Ichigo's steps echoed softly on the worn wooden floors. Exiting the building, Ichigo sighed in relief at the delicious feel of the cool, summer night air.

Letting the warm, drunken haze lift from his body for a moment, Ichigo then turned down the sidewalk to head towards his apartment. Enjoying the sounds of crickets and the few night birds that called out in mellifluous tones, he walked leisurely down the street lamp lit walk. He smiled to himself as he imagined magnificent creatures of myth out of the shadows cast by the orange glow of the lights that softly illuminated the street.

Turning a corner, the ginger pretended that the shadows were monsters in his company and that he were a pied piper of sorts. As a kid he was never scared of monsters, but rather fascinated by them. Most kids had a teddy bear to protect them from the monsters while they slept, but Ichigo had pretended the frightening darkness in his closet was occupied by a fearsome beast that kept him safe as he slumbered. On long car trips, he would stare out the window at the scenery that rushed by and imagined a dark, winged monster that ran and flew alongside the car to watch over him.

He was different, what else could he say. Even at the ripe age of twenty one, he still liked to fantasize about those magical monsters that kept him safe. Feeling perfectly safe on the half lit empty streets as he meandered home, he never became aware of the eyes that watched him from the darkened rooftops.

A strong breeze kicked up and he laughed as he spun about in the street, casting his face towards the starry midnight blue canvas of a sky. The moon was nearly full. Now that he thought about it, it would be a full moon on the night of the concert.

A light, easy going laugh bubbled up from his chest and fell from his smiling lips as he spun about in the strong gust of wind one last time before it died down. He loved nights like this one as they made him feel so alive in ways he could hardly explain.

Rounding the last corner that led him to his street, Ichigo froze as he saw a darkened figure sitting in the half light on the front steps of his small apartment. A slight chill washed over him as he recognized the man.

"Shuu?" The name fell as a whisper from his lips.

The man's head jerked up at the sound revealing eyes that bore dark circles and a haggard face. Standing up and roughly shoving a hand through short spiky locks of black hair, Shuuhei stepped onto the sidewalk. Stepping into the orange glow of the street light, the man smiled weakly at Ichigo.

"Ichigo, babe… I missed you." The other man's voice was rough and quiet, sending wary chills gallivanting up Ichigo's spine.

"Why are you here?" Ichigo asked tersely, sobering up in an instant.

The black haired man with the tattoo of the number sixty nine on his cheek grinned lopsidedly in an almost unhinged manner. Stepping forward with a strange light in his eye, he gave Ichigo a good and long once over.

"You look good, though I liked your old hair better." He said without answering Ichigo's question.

"Shuuhei, you shouldn't be here. Go home." Ichigo took three confident steps forward towards his apartment door before a strong, warm hand was pressed against his chest.

"Don't be like that. I just wanted to see how you were doing." The undercurrent of sexual desire couldn't be missed in Shuuhei's tone.

Brushing the man's hand off, Ichigo felt every muscle in his body tense as he walked past the dark haired man and up the steps of his apartment. Something wasn't right about all of this. Shuuhei was acting almost as though he were high as kite, but it wasn't anything like what Ichigo remembered from when the man had used. Glancing at the man out of his peripheral as he unlocked his door, Ichigo kept a close eye on him hoping he wouldn't try to attack him.

When Shuuhei simply stood there with a blank look on his face, Ichigo juggled his bag and violin as he stepped through the threshold of the door. Looking back out at the man on the street, Ichigo spoke softly, trying to keep the tender hurt from his voice.

"Go home Shuu."

And then Ichigo shut the door with an intense sigh of relief as he locked the door as well as the heavy deadbolt. Slumping against the door, Ichigo slid to the floor wearily. After all this time, Shuuhei had finally paid a visit to him and the sight of the man brought up too many feelings. Gritting his teeth, Ichigo put his head in his hands as he tried to stop shaking from his sudden adrenaline rush.

**…**

**…**

Stepping off the tall building without a care, the shadow cloaked figure landed on the street with ease and unnatural grace. Standing in a darkened alleyway, the figure looked across the street with curiosity. Staring intently at the black haired man who stood outside the false brunette's apartment, he willed the man to look at him.

Shuuhei turned in the direction of the heavily shadowed alley and slowly began walking that way. Heavy lidded eyes stared at the shadowed figure as he was wrapped even deeper with enchantments.

"He's perfect for you my lord. I can get him for you if you want." He said as he looked on the figure with enchanted adoration, an adulating smile on his features.

The figure stood and contemplated for a moment. While the thought of making the young man inside the apartment their own right then and there was very tempting, they knew it wasn't the time just yet to be taking in more pets. They despised how fragile and weak willed humans were, but they served a purpose or two. Sighing, the figure spoke in a voice that was barely above a murmur.

"No. Simply watch him for now."

Shuuhei nodded earnestly as he knelt in the shadows of the alley before the figure, a smile of a drugged man painting his nearly crazed features.

"Of course, my lord. Anything for you."

**…**

**…**

**Not too hard to figure out what's going on. :P So yes, please let me know what you thought and thanks for reading! I'm off to drink gallons of coffee and soak in some wonderful sunlight.**

**~Aurelia**


	3. Chapter 2

**So... long time no write!**

**I would first, like to take this time to apologize for my sudden lapse in activity. It was not my intention to abandon a story, and I certainly haven't, but life is one helluva crazy ride. I've been so wrapped up in my new cold, soulless, corporate job. I am ashamed to admit that I let the job suck my creativity out of me. I've not written since my last update; and now looking at the dates I see that was in July! D: **

**BUT, NO MORE I SAY~! I am slowly getting back into my groove, though this may be a result of me possibly losing my well paid, well benefited job. Strangely enough, despite hard economic times, the prospect of losing this highly beneficial job doesn't really frighten me. I guess that speaks to just how dead inside the job made me feel. Safe to say I may soon have more time on my hands than what I recently had and you may begin to see more updates from me. Probably not within the three to four day frequency I had been keeping up with, but more than an update every few months. Now that I sit and think on it... I haven't written in almost half a year. And that is not something I am okay with. xD So if I must make do with work that pays less, then so be it. I'd rather make less money and be happy with my life feeling enriched by doing something I love, rather than earning that money and feeling lost like I have.**

**But enough of that, it's time for an update~! I hope I haven't lost too many of my charming readers I've gotten to know and grow fond of and here's to any new readers I may encounter.**

**...**

**…**

"Fuck… remind me again, why I am here right now?" Grimmjow growled irritably to one of his very, very few friends.

Nnoitra smirked and handed a small, leather case filled with lock picks to the less than enthused bluenette. Turning back to the door, he jiggled the latch as he finally forced it open. Looking over his shoulder, he grinned nice and wide at Grimmjow.

"Cause yer sense 'o smell is twenty times stronger than mine and cause ya love me." Nnoitra said with a mocking snort of a laugh.

Slipping his wiry frame through the door, Nnoitra disappeared inside the apartment as Grimmjow followed closely behind and shut the door. The morning light was bright and it hurt his eyes something fierce. Stalking about the apartment, Grimmjow tossed the leather case of lock picking tools back to the unbelievably tall man that was his friend.

After Nnoitra had left that night to look for Ulquiorra's blood bond, he had returned near dawn and told Grimmjow he thought he had found something. Insisting that it required Grimmjow's unnatural talents, Nnoitra had coerced the bluenette into inspecting the abandoned apartment. Even though the sun was hardly over the horizon, it was still too bright, and it was long past Grimmjow's bed time.

Sniffing about the place, Grimmjow picked up a strong scent of a young, human male among other things. The rot from the kitchen garbage wafted to him and he had to struggle to blot it out from his sense of smell. Closing his eyes, he focused on trying to distinguish the myriad of smells from one another. He could smell the faintest traces of Nnoitra from his first visit to the empty apartment as well as his own lingering scent. Focusing harder, he drew deeply on the air as he stood beside a tired looking couch.

The smell of the young man was there as well was the smell of alcohol and something acrid yet sickly sweet. Trying to place the smell, he furrowed his blue brows deeper and curled his lip as he recognized it for cocaine. Drawing another deep breath, he found other smells. Grimmjow followed his nose as it led him to an empty room down the hall.

Sweet, earthy, musky and masculine; it was the smell of another young man that had lived here. It was a bright, warm smell that made Grimmjow's mouth water. Shaking his head he left the room and put all of his willpower in trying to distinguish any other smells. Passing by a bedroom, he paused.

The drunken smell of the first young male and faint fading traces of the warmer male lingered in the room but there was no mistaking the cold smell of death. Deep as midnight, cloying like decay but powerful and like moonlight; a vampire had been here within the last few weeks. Grimmjow knew Luppi's scent and this wasn't his. It had to be Ulquiorra, unless another ancient vampire had recently moved to town.

Exiting the room, Grimmjow found Nnoitra absently rifling through some items on a coffee table.

"A vampire was definitely here along with two younger, human males. I'd guess that the vampire hasn't been here in little over a week. One human male left here months ago but his scent still lingers while the other's is very fresh; by like the last few days."

Nnoitra nodded at the bluenette. With a careless flick of his wrist, the black haired man discarded a piece of junk mail.

"All the mail with any kind'a name on it's been removed. Only things left 'r addressed ta current resident 'n all that bullshit." Nnoitra said.

Sighing heavily, Grimmjow looked about the apartment, before turning back to his friend.

"It shouldn't be too hard to find who is renting this place. Find out and track them down. I'm going home to fucking sleep."

"And if'n I find something?" Nnoitra asked with a quizzical look.

"Unless it is really fucking important, you don't even think about waking me up." Grimmjow snapped as he turned to leave the messy apartment. Nnoitra gave him a smirk and a wave as he continued to search through the apartment a bit more.

Stalking outside towards his car, Grimmjow had to suppress the incredibly cliché urge to hiss at the brightening light of dawn. Opening the door to his solid black luxury car, he slid inside behind the wheel and relished in the moderate darkness offered by the tinted windows. Feeling his fatigue hitting him hard, he put the key in the ignition and reveled in how silent the engine was as it turned over. He preferred silent cars for the most part, but there were times when he enjoyed the good old cars with steel bodies and growling engines that looked and sounded like savage beasts as they rolled down the blacktop.

Pulling away from the curb, he began to drive towards his home and the sweet siren call of his waiting bed.

**…**

**…**

Hurrying down the street for his early bird class, Ichigo began to kick himself for signing up for a class this early in the morning. He had to though since his job took up a good portion of his time during the afternoon. Gritting his teeth against the brewing headache, the dyed brunette sluggishly made his way to the university.

While he loved his job at Urahara's book store, he knew these early bird classes would be the death of him now that Shinji was living here. There was no way he'd balance his night life with Shinji and his early morning classes as well as his job. Smiling grimly to himself, he chuckled darkly as he glanced up and down the empty street to cross it.

Shinji would understand that a job and school were important too, especially since he'd have to balance them as well. Ichigo was halfway across the street when a shiny black car came speeding around the corner. Eyes widening in surprise, he watched as the vehicle screeched to a halt inches away from him. Staring into the black tinted windows, Ichigo glared hatefully and gave the unseen driver a seething look of fury. He was half tempted to flip the driver the bird, but he was in a hurry and the last thing he needed right now was to start a fight.

Finishing his journey across the street, Ichigo turned his head in time to see the car speed away down the street and head up the hill. Shaking his head at the reckless, early morning driver, Ichigo sighed and continued his way towards the university campus.

Goose bumps tingled up and down his skin as he walked. The sudden feeling that he was being watched came over him as he made his way down the nearly empty street in the rosy light of dawn. A café was opening early as were a couple stores and the occasional person came out to check their mail or start a car. The shadows on the street were long from the light of the rising sun and the air was still cool and crisp as grass glistened with diamond studded dew. Yet amidst all of this he felt like the mouse that was being watched by the owl in the treetops.

Shaking the feeling off, Ichigo dismissed it as adrenaline from his near miss with the black car from earlier. Turning off the main street to walk up the university's long drive that held summer blooming cherry blossom trees every five feet, he savored the sweet smell of the trees as he went. A light breeze kicked up and suddenly it was snowing soft, pink confetti. Brushing the few stray petals that clung to his dyed locks, he ignored the wary tingle in his spine as he headed to class.

**…**

**…**

"You're late in heading to bed." Szayel smirked as Grimmjow stormed in through the large, ornate iron door into the foyer of his home.

An eye roll was all the response his pink haired friend received as he ignored the man and continued further into his home. Passing sitting rooms, a solarium-turned-lunarium, the dining room, a library and many more rooms, he made his way to his bedroom.

Shutting and locking his door behind himself, Grimmjow went about undressing and readying himself for sleep. Pulling his shiny, silver phone from his pocket, he tossed it onto the coffee table by the tall, covered window and watched it bounce onto the seat of one of the chairs at the table. Ignoring the device, he shambled into his walk-in closet that also served a dressing room.

This sucked. He desperately wanted to find the Schiffer vampire, but without the blood bond there was no way he would. Not unless, by some stroke of luck the vampire happened to just fall into his lap. Not a chance of that happening; that and he didn't want a vampire in his lap to begin with. Just then, the bluenette's stomach rumbled as he pulled his silken shirt over his head.

That's right. He had forgotten to eat dinner. Feeling much too sleepy to worry about a missed meal, he continued undressing till he finally stood in the nude. Turning the light off in his dressing room, he glided across plush carpets to make his way to the enormous four poster canopy bed. Falling in, he wrapped the soft sheet over his lithe, muscular form, enjoying every second of how the silken sheets caressed his bared skin.

Closing his bright, sapphire eyes, he was about to drift to sleep when a stranger's face appeared, unbidden in his mind's eye. Tawny tanned skin, upturned, deep brown eyes, high cheek bones, a pert mouth and strange auburn, spiky locks that stood up in a sexy disarray. Growling as he recalled the pedestrian he had almost hit earlier, Grimmjow pushed the face from his mind and allowed himself to dream. Soft hands of darkness pressed at his tired lids and took him by the hands to lead him off to a place he seldom allowed.

**…**

**…**

_"See this here Grimmjow?" _

_ The paternal, smiling face brought him a long forgotten feeling of joy. Angular features, dark stubble that framed a strong jaw and deep, shadowed eyes. His skin was pale as ever and contrasted with his deep almost black, brown wavy locks of hair that reached the center of his back. Grimmjow had always thought the man was ageless, but in these dreams he saw the years written plainly on the stern yet caring face._

_ "This is pure silver. Silver will be our greatest ally, never forget that." _

_ Staring down at the scowling youth of ten years that eyed the pocket watch that dangled before him intently, Grimmjow smirked at his younger self. Bright, baby blue locks of untamable hair and severe angry looking brows that furrowed in concentration. He hadn't changed much in looks over the years other than maturing and growing. Inside he was a very different man now, compared to the mischievous, lighthearted boy he had once been._

_ "One day this will be yours as will this mansion and all the responsibilities that come with it." _

_ He had been excited to learn that he would be doing the same great work as his adoptive father, but had he known the circumstances under which he would take that role, he would have never wanted it. But life was never fair. _

_ Upon his birth, Grimmjow's mother had died and he had never met his father. He lived in an austere orphanage till he was four. It was at that age the man he had come to call his father had adopted him. The man had taught him how to live and cope with his… unusual abilities. He had given Grimmjow a life worth living and for that, he'd never forget the man; nor the promise he had made to himself as he watched his father on his deathbed._

_ The dream abruptly shifted and he saw a thirteen year old version of himself training in swordsmanship. His father had taught him all manner of sword play from fencing to traditional Japanese kendo. Safe to say, there wasn't a blade in the world the bluenette didn't know how to handle._

_ "Good! Keep your guard up even when you attack and mind your footwork."_

_ His father praised him as they practiced with standard wooden bokken. They smiled and circled one another as they continued to spar._

_ Growing up inside the mansion on the hill, Grimmjow had never been exposed to the outside world much as a child other than the orphanage, which he hardly remembered anymore. Schooled at home by his own father, Grimmjow had been educated in all manner of subjects and was highly intelligent, excelling in languages and surprisingly enough, music._

_ Most of his time was dedicated to training though. It would eventually be his duty one day to protect the city from the beings he was taught to abhor for their irreverence for life. His father had often apologized for placing such a burden on the young bluenette's shoulders; but even now as an adult, knowing everything he did, Grimmjow wouldn't change his own fate even if he could._

_ He was what he was._

**…**

**…**

Replacing books onto a shelf, Ichigo smiled at his whining blonde friend as he went about his job. Shinji gave a tug on his hot pink tie before he went about adjusting his open black vest; he had spotted a very attractive man enter the store. Ichigo rolled his eyes at the blonde's antics. Shinji always looked good, but it amused him how he fussed over his appearance like a teenage girl. Taking a mental note of his own appearance, Ichigo felt a little drab next to his friend. His black and white chucks, faded jeans that sported a couple holes and tight fitting purple and black button up looked plain next's Shinji's cutting edge sense of fashion. Whipping out his phone and checking the angle of his straw fedora on the reflective cover, Shinji continued with his complaining as Ichigo went about shelving books.

"Pleeee ase! We could just go for a couple drinks. It's right by my apartment and if need be you could just crash at my place." Shinji said in an undignified whine.

Ichigo rolled his eyes and placed the last book on the shelf as Shinji fingered a copy of The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne. The blonde had his best pouty face on that made him look like a pathetic puppy. Almost snorting as he tried to hold back his laughter, Ichigo sighed heavily.

"I'm just not in the mood to go out. I have bookwork to do and I need to continue practicing for the concert tomorrow night. This isn't some high school recital; this is big. You should be practicing too." Ichigo halfheartedly scolded. It was Shinji's turn to roll his eyes.

"C'mon! You should get out some and meet a hot guy!" Shinji continued to plead.

Ichigo shook his head and turned to the cart that held more books to be shelved. Seeing a large number of them needed to be all returned to the roughly the same section, the pseudo brunette wheeled his cart a couple aisles over and began shelving those too as Shinji trailed after him. It was true that Ichigo had to practice and that he had homework due for several of the courses he was taking, but the main reason was that he was still a little wary about seeing Shuuhei recently. The man had successfully rattled Ichigo, but Ichigo just couldn't tell Shinji about it; the blonde would do something stupid.

"Whats'a matter?" Shinji said pointedly, the pleading and playful whining gone from his tone. The question hit Ichigo like a downpour of ice. Had his friend figured it out? Shinji knew something was up with his friend and the blonde would be like a dog with a bone till he found out what it was.

"Nothing. I'm working." Ichigo said simply as he made a show of shelving another book.

"Ah, I see…" Shinji said with a raised brow and a look that spoke of his skepticism. Ichigo wanted to freeze, thinking Shinji had caught onto him but he continued his work.

"Yer really that nervous about yer debut?"

Relief washed over Ichigo. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to Shinji why he hadn't called the police on Shuuhei. The man had been so physically abusive to him that Ichigo certainly had every right to. Deciding to play along, Ichigo said what the blonde wanted to hear.

"Well of course I'm a little nervous; why wouldn't I be?" Ichigo said the mock defense in his tone convincing his best friend that his anxiety for the upcoming concert was indeed the issue.

Ichigo felt a little bad for skirting around the truth like this and lying by omission, but there was something in his stubborn nature that refused to let him tell Shinji about Shuuhei as the blonde would worry unnecessarily.

"Well yer debut is right after mine so I would see why yer nervous." Shinji said with a devilish smirk. "Who would want to follow an act like mine?" His voice full of mock arrogance with no lack of real ego showing through, Shinji giggled and gave Ichigo a playful shove and the fake brunette rolled his eyes yet again.

"Seriously though. Ya shouldn't worry so much. Yer amazing and everything will go just fine. Just do that weird thing you do where you space out while ya play and let the music move ya or whatever the hell it is ya do and the auditorium will applaud so hard their hands will bleed."

Ichigo chuckled and reached an arm out to give his best friend a quick hug.

"You're right. I don't know why I even worried about it." He said as Shinji glowed at being told he was right.

"Of course I'm right. That's why you should come with me for drinks at that new dance club by my place!" Shinji said with renewed whining.

With another heavy sigh, Ichigo shelved the last book on his cart and turned to look at Shinji. He got off work in an hour and he'd then have a few hours to study before he would have to take a shower before going anywhere with Shinji. While he wasn't partial to dancing, he knew Shinji was and when it came down to it, Ichigo loved to dance once he'd had several drinks in him. Slowly convincing himself of how he could still finish up his homework and even get a little practice in on his violin, Shinji already knew he had won.

"Yes! Alright. So meet me at my place at eight and we'll head out together okay?"

Ichigo gave a dramatic groan and nodded grudgingly despite the wide smile on his face. Shinji was right though, he needed to get out and meet some new faces. Maybe he'd meet a guy that wasn't turned off by his verdant imagination that tended to runaway with him.

**…**

**…**

Sitting in front of a laptop in a fresh outfit with damp hair glistening in the soft glow of artificial light, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques blurred his long fingers across the keys with blinding speed. He had only just sat down a few moments ago after getting out of the shower and was sending a correspondence to a contact of his that was keeping tabs on the various vampires that held a large amount of sway within a five hundred mile radius. Keeping his finger on the pulse of underworld activity was his job after all.

It was then his stomach rumbled and reminded him of its pitifully empty state. He'd need sustenance otherwise he'd begin to grow weak and even more irritable than was normal for him. Feeling the hunger pangs grip him, he finished up his message and hit the send button before closing the impressive machine and standing from the large and comfortable armchair. Systematically popping as many joints as he could, Grimmjow sighed at the magnificent feeling.

Stepping away from the chair, his long corded legs carried him quickly across the study towards the large door that led out into the main corridor of the ridiculously huge home. Padding on silent bare feet, Grimmjow made his way to the kitchen. He always ate in there and hardly ever in the dining hall.

Upon entering the brightly lit kitchen, Grimmjow frowned to see another already there. Nnoitra was standing at the island counter in the center of the marble and stainless steel kitchen, mouth open wide and what looked to be a roast beef sandwich stilled in his hands on its journey to his cavernous pie hole. Raising a brow to the lanky black hared, one eyed man, Grimmjow just shook his head and turned towards the enormous stainless steel monstrosity that was his refrigerator.

He could hear Nnoitra grunt as he chomped down on the massive sandwich he had made himself. Opening the fridge, Grimmjow looked and saw the kitchen staff had a meal all ready for him on a tray with a muslin cloth over the top. Taking the tray out, he sat it on the counter and shut the fridge with a careless kick from his bare foot. Whipping the pristine white cloth off the tray, he saw that it was a meal of practically raw steak and an assortment of fruit. Taking the dish of fruit from the tray Grimmjow eyed the steak. Eating it cold repulsed him a little but it was his own fault for missing the meal previously and he hated wasting food. Knowing he couldn't really warm it up without overcooking it, he simply took up a fork and knife and delved into it while he eyed the fruit.

There was a plum, a peach, a tangerine and an assortment of large strawberries. All of them were fruit with a high juice content. Eyeing the strawberries, he smirked a little as he chewed the virtually raw meat. He loved really juicy fruits but strawberries were the best. The cold red meat slid down his throat as he swallowed, making him wish there were an easier way of keeping himself nourished. He could simply eat as the counter to his kind ate… no, that idea repulsed him greatly. He wouldn't become what he hunted.

He finished his steak in silence as Nnoitra watched him eat. The lanky man eyed his fruit but a curled lip and a rumbling growl from the bluenette stilled the man's hand that inched towards the plate. Rolling his eyes, Nnoitra smirked crookedly at his blue haired friend.

"So possessive ya are." He said.

"I don't go after your food." Grimmjow grunted before he savagely bit into a peach with his sharp teeth and sucked the sweet juices from the flesh of the fruit.

"Yeah that's cause ya can't stand ta eat something cooked." Nnoitra chuckled as he leaned back against the counter, stretching his long lithe legs out in front of him. Ignoring the comment, Grimmjow went to asking his friend about the progress he had made in discovering where the blood bond of Ulquiorra Schiffer had gone to.

"Found the blood bond yet?" He said around a mouthful of peach.

"Nope. He gotta be here though. Schiffer ain't makin' a move ta attack us yet, so I'm guessin' that the fucks still alive somewhere. It's possible Schiffer realized we found out who his blood bond was and hid 'im." Nnoitra said. Grimmjow continued to eat as he thought over what the man had told him.

"Starrk called me." Nnoitra added casually.

That statement alone stilled Grimmjow's chewing for a brief moment. Starrk was a vampire hunter that offered information to Grimmjow from time to time and he'd been off the grid for some time now. There had been some whispers that he'd died or worse, been turned, but Grimmjow knew that wasn't the case. Starrk wouldn't die without causing some splashy scene that took out a large number of blood suckers with him.

"What'd he have to say?" The bluenette asked.

"Well he said Aaroniero's been taken care of."

"That was quick."

"He always is. He also said ta tell ya that Schiffer's and Artenor's fledglings have been active lately. Their apparently trying ta gather as many blood bonds as they can without the other side or us noticin' too much. He thinks they are gonna try to move against one another."

Grimmjow ate the last of his breakfast and went about rinsing the plate as he digested the new information. That was news indeed. A fight between covens was no small thing.

"More than likely, Luppi is thinking to rid himself of his competition and Ulquiorra is merely building his side in answer. There is no doubt in my mind that the Schiffer coven will decimate the Artenor coven in a matter of a few hours. Schiffer won't move until Luppi does." Grimmjow said, thinking aloud more than anything else.

"Unless that's a cover and they plan ta hit us together. We've been enough of a pain in the ass of the vampire community that it wouldn't surprise me if'n they decided ta stop fighting each other ta wipe us out." Nnoitra replied. He cocked a black brow and looked to his friend with a beady eye, the other hidden behind the white patch on his face.

It sounded plausible, but Grimmjow knew how much Luppi hated Ulquiorra and how much Ulquiorra was repulsed by Luppi; if he remembered correctly, the elder vampire had called the younger "trash". They needed more information. A human hunter to infiltrate their ranks as a willing candidate to be a blood bond might work, but the only ones he trusted for that job were Starrk, Nnoitra and Szayel. All were faces well known as hunters among the vampire underworld. They'd have to find out more another way.

"Well, I gotta go hit the streets 'n see what I can find. Later!" Nnoitra said as he swiftly exited the kitchen, leaving Grimmjow to his thoughts.

**…**

**…**

Flashing lights, the smell of sweat and alcohol, pulsating bass and cheers and jeers from a crowd of drunken dancers assaulted Ichigo's senses. He sat at a tall table in the corner, perched on a bar stool sipping his drink as he watched Shinji gyrate and have a good time in general out on the dance floor.

The new club they were at had a techno-part-goth-part-punk theme to it that lent to the dark atmosphere set by the music that was blaring. Yet somehow it all managed to feel and look sophisticated in a refined English sort of way, with the rich jewel tone colors that graced the plush, velvet covered furniture that scattered the outskirts of the dance floor. It was such a contradiction that it confused Ichigo a bit. Everywhere there were pale skinned people wearing tons of black accented by bright neons or deep maroons, purples and royal blues and silver accessories. There was something about the place that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Ichigo could totally appreciate the style but he knew he'd never be one to pull it off well, that and he liked color too much. While he enjoyed wearing black, all black all the time might be too much for him. Shinji had the fortune of being able to fit into any style or subculture that he so chose. The blonde was so fluid and adaptable that he and Ichigo used to joke when they were younger that the blonde could be an undercover agent of some sort.

Listening to the rather diverse selection of music that had been played over the last couple hours, Ichigo wasn't surprised when Number One Crush by Garbage came on. He smiled and bobbed his head slightly as he listened to the music, letting the words and the pulsing bass take him away. Fascinated by the need in the singer's voice and the sultry way she crooned about the extremes she'd go to for "love", Ichigo was startled out of his reverie when the soft voice of a man sounded at his ear.

"You seem to enjoy music." With a startled jump, Ichigo turned to face the stranger that had approached him.

Broad shouldered, chestnut eyes, a silver hoop through his left brow and long crimson hair tied up in a messy topknot. The man had a handsome roguish smile and wore it well. What really caught Ichigo's eyes were the bold tribal tattoos in simple black ink on the man's face and neck. He couldn't help the blush that crept across his lightly freckled cheeks as he wondered where all those tattoos went when they disappeared like writhing snakes beneath the man's clothing.

The tattooed wonder wore a skin tight long sleeved, faded black shirt with a deep V that displayed his sculpted clavicles and kept Ichigo wondering how far down those tats went. He had the easy muscles of someone who looked to be born with them that rippled underneath the shirt and Ichigo could plainly see the cut nature or the man's hips as his dark blue jeans rode low; a silver studded belt threaded through the loops as a mere decoration than to keep the pants farther up his hips.

The music changed and Ichigo recognized it as Crazy by the Kidneythieves. Mentally shaking himself out, he tried to regain some measure of composure as the man waited patiently for a response. It seemed the redhead was used to this kind of reaction. Remembering the statement the man had made, Ichigo shouted above the music to reply.

"I do. Music is… a hobby of mine I guess you could say." His voice shook a little but no one would be able to tell in this loud place.

The red head's smile widened as he leaned in closer. Ichigo couldn't help but savor the smell that wafted off the man. He smelled of cinnamon, cloves and natural musk that went straight to Ichigo's head. It was an intoxicating scent.

"Me too. I've played guitar ever since I was big enough to hold one. You play anything?" The red head asked him.

Ichigo was distracted by the man's mouth as he spoke. There was a glint of something shiny and Ichigo blushed further to realize the man's tongue was pierced. Hoping it was too dim in the club to tell that he was blushing, Ichigo took a quick swig of his drink before responding.

"Violin; ever since I was big enough to hold one." Ichigo said with a teasing tone.

The red head laughed boisterously and clapped Ichigo on the back. An electric feeling of excitement tingled through Ichigo's body at the contact as he took another bold swig of his drink and polished it off. The alcohol slowly spread throughout his body and made him feel more at ease around the incredibly attractive red head.

"So can I buy you a drink for your name?" The red head asked boldly. Ichigo was surprised. This wasn't a gay bar or anything but here this man was blatantly hitting on him. Was he that obviously gay, sitting there at a table on his own? Whatever it was, Ichigo wasn't too bothered by it. It took him a moment to nod while his smile widened. The red head chuckled and headed towards the bar through the throngs of dancers.

Shinji had been right… again. Who would have thought that there would have been such a hot guy here that would be interested in Ichigo. Running a hand through his falsely brown spikes, Ichigo quickly scanned his attire. He was wearing a tightly fitted pair of black jeans, his teal chucks, a white t-shirt and Shinji's black vest which the blonde had insisted he wear.

He looked back up just in time to see the red head weaving back through the crowd of dancers with two drinks in hand. Ichigo caught Shinji's eye and the blonde noted the red head before giving Ichigo a lascivious wink. That was that; the man had earned Shinji's wink of approval. Handing Ichigo a drink that he didn't recognize, the red head held up his glass full of the same.

"Absinthe." The red head said at Ichigo's quizzical look. Raising his glass too, Ichigo smiled as the red head spoke again.

"To being a starving musician!" The red head crowed. They tipped their glasses back and drank to the red head's toast. Ichigo sipped at his while his new friend gulped his all down in an impressive matter of a few seconds.

Giving Ichigo another wide smile, the red head sat his glass down on the table and took the seat opposite him. Still sipping his drink, Ichigo nervously thought of what to say. The red head beat him to it.

"I know this place is new and all, but I haven't seen you in here at all the last week or so. You don't seem much like the clubbing type."

"I'm usually not. I'm here with a friend."

"Ah the blonde on the dance floor. I saw you guys come in together but then you split up and it confused me a bit. I thought you two were together." The red head laughed.

"Oh no, no, no~!" Ichigo laughed in return as he took another sip. He didn't mean to try and put the man off by making it sound like he was taken. Internally rolling his eyes at his own stupidity, he continued to explain.

"No he's my best friend. He just moved here and wanted to check out the night life."

"Ahhh~. Well good. I was afraid I'd have to steal you from him or something." The red head said with a quick wink. Ichigo couldn't help the slightly drunken chuckle that escaped his lips.

"So, about that name?" The handsome red head prompted.

"Oh! I'm Ichigo."

"Berry huh? I like it. Name's Renji."

Ichigo cringed inside at how the man made that connection with his name. He hated when people called him that. Not even Shinji dared call him Berry. Deciding to ignore it since they were strangers to one another and flirting like mad, Ichigo smiled and nodded at Renji's name. The music switched once more and Ichigo found himself knowing the song again.

"It's been forever since I've heard Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground!" Renji said excitedly. Ichigo gaped a little, ecstatic by the common ground they had. It was nice to have someone other than Shinji know all the same songs he did.

"I love the song too!" Ichigo said. Renji smiled in reply as he spoke, his smile turning more devious.

"Sid Vicious?" He asked.

"Of course! The Sex Pistols are a must! What about Joan Jett?"

"Without a doubt! Marilyn Manson?" Renji returned.

" 'Nobodies' is probably my favorite song!"

They went on and on like that, exchanging musical favorites not specific to any one genre as Renji bought them another round of drinks. Before long Shinji wandered back to the table from the dance floor to see how they were doing.

"Renji, this is my best friend Shinji. Shinji this is Renji." Ichigo introduced the pair to one another and watched as the two seemed to get along well right off the get go.

Taking another swig from his glass, it took Ichigo a moment to realize he was drinking a rum and coke that was more like a glass of rum with a splash of coke. They sure made the drinks here strong or all Ichigo could taste anymore was the booze. Either way he didn't care; he was actually enjoying himself. Ichigo knew if Renji asked him to go dance he wouldn't say no. Hell… if the red head asked him to come home with him he might not say no.

"Want to dance?" It was as if on cue.

Smiling and full of drunken laughter, Ichigo ambled out onto the dance floor with the red head while Shinji took a breather at the table. A dark song that reminded Ichigo of something he couldn't quite name came over the sound system in the club and made him want to dance as though he were a snake charmer, or maybe the snake… did it matter at this point?

A pulsating beat and exotic instruments crooned into his ears and went straight to his soul. Undulating and emphasizing the harder beats with sudden harsh movements, he was bold enough to grind up on Renji a little. The heat of the bodies all around them made a trickle of sweat run down his spine in a delicious sort of way as he let loose and forgot everything that worried him in this world.

"_Maybe you're not good enough… good enough to make me blush…"_

The lyrics found their way to his lips even though he couldn't remember the name of the song. Hands on his hips and lips at his neck, Ichigo shivered in delight at the searing heat he felt whenever Renji touched him, their dance alluding to things more carnal. The womb-like heat of the all the other dancers surrounding them had Ichigo panting with his repressed desires as Renji's hands wandered boldly across his clothed body.

Suddenly he found himself jerked from his perfect little world, the angry sounds of a guitar screaming all around him as he lost sync with everything for a moment. A hand around his wrist pulled him out of the throng of dancers as he was flung out towards the wall. Whirling around to look back at the dance floor, the man who had grabbed him was already storming back into the crowd of dancers giving Ichigo a view of how tall he was and the long black hair that fell just past slim shoulders.

The lanky man grabbed a hold of Renji who was trying to disappear into the crowd to yank him off the dance floor. The alcohol muddling his senses, Ichigo bristled at how his new friend was being treated and rushed in to the red head's rescue. Right as the two men came off the dance floor Ichigo grabbed a hold of the tall man's shirt.

"Le'go, you bastard!" Ichigo slurred in anger.

The tall, lithe man with raven hair turned to face Ichigo. He had piercing, crude eyes, one obscured by a patch that made him look formidable and a toothy smile like Shinji's.

"Go siddown ya drunk id-jit. I'm savin' yer life!" The lanky man hissed dangerously.

Sparing a glance to Renji, Ichigo saw the red head wasn't struggling but instead looked incredibly wary of the man as he scanned his surroundings like he was looking for a way out of there. Before the red head could make a move, the tall man with the eye patch drug Renji out of the club without anyone stopping them.

A suddenly sick feeling overcame the pseudo brunette and like a flash, Shinji was at his side. The two stumbled out the side door into the alley and not a moment too soon. The cool air hit Ichigo's face, offering a small measure of relief before he turned and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the asphalt of the side street. Heaving and heaving till he thought his own stomach would come up, Ichigo panted as his eyes watered. Shinji patted his back and helped his friend stand upright and move away from the spot he had defiled with his vomit.

"Well someone's had too much ta drink. What happened? Was that tall guy Red's boyfriend or something?" Shinji asked.

"He said he was savin' my life…" Ichigo rasped, his throat raw from hurling up everything his insides had so desperately tried to hold on to.

"Sure he was. Well let's get you home. I think we've had enough fun for one night, whaddya think?"

The question was rhetorical, but Ichigo answered anyways in a drunken slur.

"Yeah… home's really nice."

**…**

**…**

"Alright ya little shit!" Nnoitra said in gruff voice as he shoved Renji up against the red brick wall that was the side of a building. He had hauled the red head out of that vamp-trap of a club down the street to a couple alleys away. He needed answers and he'd get them from Renji the not so nice way or the really not nice way.

"Who wanted the kid?" He demanded of the man who acted as a broker of human flesh.

"I dunno what you're talking about you overgrown fucker!" Renji hissed as he tried to pry Nnoitra's hands off his shirt.

"I know what ya do fer a living, remember? I know fer a fact ya work with vampires ta find blood bonds fer them that suit their tastes, ya disgustin' little prick. Now fuckin' talk! Who's looking fer a new bond!?" Nnoitra emphasized his question by slamming the shorter man up against the wall hard. Renji's head hit the brick wall and his eyes glazed for a moment as he coped with the pain.

"Talk!"

Renji promptly spit in Nnoitra's face. Nnoitra wasn't a patient man by any means, but the trigger to his short fused temper was definitely someone spitting on him. Reaching behind himself he pulled the custom pistol out from the waistband of his jeans. The click of the safety going off as he brought the gun to red head's templ,e had the man quivering.

"While silver ain't gonna do shit to ya, these bullets'll still kill ya just the same you fucking bitch ass punk. Now tell me what I wanna know or Imma lose every reason I got to not kill ya, and I'm tellin' ya now it's a fuckin' short ass list." Nnoitra practically whispered his threats into Renji's ear. Like magic, the red head started talking.

"Alright! I've been gettin' asked by vampires from the Schiffer coven as well as vamps from the Artenor coven to find them blood bonds. Schiffer's been askin' for a new personal blood bond, he wanted a musician, young and male, the kid fit the criteria!" Renji said in haste.

"Who've ya had face ta face contact with?" Nnoitra asked.

"Minor league vamps from both sides. No one big time or anything, just low ranking muscle, I swear!"

"What happened to Schiffer's blood bond then? He already had a personal one."

"I dunno. There's been talk that Artenor's been picking off Schiffer coven bonds. Last I heard Hisagi got mixed up other underworld business; human business like drugs. Other's said that he-"

Nnoitra got no more from the red head before the man's eyes widened and went blank. The think scent of blood filled the air as the chilling presence of an undead surrounded him. Dropping the unconscious body, Nnoitra stepped back and held his pistol at the ready. Appearing before him like a mirage shimmering into being, stood a vampire.

"While 'is services 'r greatly appreciated by milord, I couldn't let 'im jus' tell ya everythin'." The sheet white vampire said in a strange lilting voice. He lifted a pale hand and blew at his knuckles as though he were removing them of dust.

"O'course I had ta knock 'im out. Now scram 'unter, 'r Imma paint this end 'o town red wit' yer pretty blood." The vampire cackled.

He threw his pale face back in light laughter, tossing back his hip length, ash white locks, lids closing to hide the fiery embers set in onyx that were his eyes. Nnoitra knew that if he fought this vampire, he'd be in for a tough fight.

"Shirosaki." He hissed. The name rolled off his tongue in an unpleasant way.

"I see ya know me from my reputation!" Shirosaki crowed in his thick Cockney accent as he stepped closer to Nnoitra, instantly putting the lanky man on guard.

Shirosaki was a mercenary vampire that worked for Ulquiorra Schiffer. He wasn't nearly as ancient as Schiffer, but he was old enough to be cause for worry when only armed with a single magazine of silver bullets. Adrenaline sang through Nnoitra's veins. His senses sharpened as he watched every minuscule move the pale, grinning vampire made. As much as he hated to back down from a fight, Nnoitra knew when he was outmatched. Nonetheless, it grated against his pride to know it.

Slowly backing out of the alley way, Nnoitra watched as the pale Shirosaki, clad in all black from his skin tight muscle shirt right down his lean denim covered legs and to his combat boot clad feet stood calmly watching him.

Trigger finger itching, a tiny voice of warning cried in his head to not do anything so utterly stupid as to shoot. He needed the information Renji had and that vampire was the only thing standing between him and what he wanted. More than likely, Schiffer coven vamps and those associated with them would be on guard after this encounter, unless Nnoitra could silence the pale blood sucking specter that gauged his every eye flicker and intake of breath.

"Notta smart move on yer part 'unter." Shirosaki tsked as Nnoitra's grip on his weapon tightened.

Pupils dilating with an ungodly rush of adrenaline, Nnoitra leveled his firearm at Shirosaki's heart and pulled the trigger in true western show down style. The report of the gun resounded loudly off the solid brick walls around them in the alley but even as his finger pulled the trigger, Nnoitra knew the bullet wouldn't find its mark.

Grunting with pain, Nnoitra barely dodged the worst of the attack made upon him as the cold bite of metal burned along his ribs. Warm crimson gushed from the slash wound and soaked his shirt, but he didn't slow. Reaching behind himself as he fired off another shot at the pale blur that moved against him once more, Nnoitra pulled out his trump card from one of his back pockets. Flipping the strange looking flashlight on, the lanky hunter hit a surprised blood sucking corpse full in the face with pure UV light.

An angered howl tore through the air like the sound of nails running down metal as the smell of burnt flesh filled the small alley. Stumbling out of the alley, Nnoitra watched as Shirosaki eyed him with animalistic rage and vehement hate, his face smoldering as he scooped the still unconscious Renji up and disappeared into the darkness with unnatural speed.

Clutching the wound in his side, Nnoitra cursed as his shirt was stained through along with his pants. Hobbling away down the street up the hill towards the mansion that could offer him refuge, Nnoitra knew he'd be facing a whole barrage of ridicule for getting wounded and for attempting to take on Shirosaki.

"Fffuck."

**…**

**…**

**Woo! Let me know your thoughts, how you feel I've done in picking thsi story back up and where you think it might be headed. As always I love hearing from readers and I do value your input.**

**I look forward to hearing from you all! ^_^**

******~AURELIA'S BACK BABY!**


	4. Chapter 3

**I know I said updates might take a while, but I was inspired. I figured there was no sense in putting off the update if it was done and ready to go. :P**

**Thank you to everyone who has read, favorited and reviewed the last chapter! ^_^ You guys are wonderful and I know I've probably said it quite a lot, but the support means quite a lot to me.**

**I hope you enjoy this next chapter as much as I did. **

**...**

**…**

"You, my good idiot, are completely brainless, dull, dim-witted, foolish… just utterly stupid really." Szayel happily went on as he went about stitching Nnoitra up. The man would go on for hours more; if Nnoitra didn't punch him into silence first that is.

Grimmjow watched as he paced the spacious sitting room. The lanky black haired man that was one of his only friends hissed in displeasure as Szayel poured a measure of golden brown whisky along the vicious looking gash that graced his left side across his ribs. The stream of vermillion muted by the golden liquid slithered from the gash to drain into the soiled with cotton of a t-shirt as a practiced, steady hand took the curved needled to tender flesh.

"GAH! Ya fuckin' fuck! If ya don't shut it I swear Imma pound you in ta a smear on the floor!" Nnoitra howled as he flinched once more at Szayel's deliberate attempts to avoid being delicate with the man.

"Well, while I enjoy thinking of all the ways I can call you daft, and despite the fact that your proposition of 'pounding me into the floor' sounds delightful, I'll have to pass on principle; wouldn't want to tear these sutures I'm working so hard on, now would we?" The innuendo in the pink haired doctor's words was missed by none in the room.

Grimmjow nearly snorted as Nnoitra simply glowered up at the man in defeat from where he lay on a mahogany coffee table. He had to hand it to the raven haired man, he was holding back fairly well in the face of the merciless onslaught of Szayel's taunts.

"So what did you learn from the body trafficker before you decided to get your ass kicked by Shirosaki?" Grimmjow asked as he paused in his pacing about the room to look Nnoitra in his good eye. The grimacing man took a deep breath of hissing pain as the pink haired doctor once more set to stitching the man back together.

"That both the Schiffer coven and the Artenor coven 'r having the Cold War of blood bonds." Nnoitra snorted as he tried to mask his discomfort at the needle piercing his skin and pulling the gash shut.

"Apparently Schiffer's been looking fer a new personal bond; young, male and musically talented. Renji Abarai almost managed ta take some guy that was drunk as fuck over in that new vamp run club tonight. I was questionin' him when Shirosaki showed up and K.O'd Renji before he could tell much more. I did manage ta use that new UV thinga-ma-jig Szayel made; worked like a charm 'n burnt him pretty good; ya do gotta be up close and personal for it ta work though." The lanky Nnoitra's face transformed with a dark sense of satisfaction at the memory.

Grimmjow nodded as he resumed his pacing, deep in thought. It seemed his initial suspicions had been right; Luppi seemed to be trying to move against Schiffer. He just knew it. Something else Nnoitra had said snagged on his attention and puzzled him though.

"A new blood bond, hmmm? What about his old one?"

"Supposedly the guy got involved in drug business before he up'n vanished, 'r so the rumors are sayin'. Renji called the guy Hisagi. Renji also said that there've been more rumors on the streets about Luppi picking off Schiffer coven bonds." Nnoitra said as he cocked a brow, waiting to hear Grimmjow's thoughts on the matter.

The rumors Nnoitra had heard from Renji only served to further the bluenette's suspicions. Whatever the case was concerning Luppi, it didn't change the fact that Grimmjow needed to get this hands on this Hisagi guy if he was ever going to discover the location on the Schiffer coven nest.

"We'll have to make our next couple of moves carefully. Now that Shirosaki knows we've been poking around, Ulquiorra will undoubtedly know as well." Grimmjow said, more to himself that to his two friends in the room.

They now knew the word on the street, but they were still no closer to pinning down the location of the nest that housed the coven of Ulquiorra Schiffer. That was frustrating enough to have Grimmjow grinding his pearly white and overly sharp teeth in agitation. Turning on his heel, the frustrated bluenette headed for the door to leave the sitting room.

"Where are _you_ going?" Szayel asked, not looking up from his task of sewing back together the highly ill-tempered humpty dumpty on the coffee table in front of him.

"For a walk." Grimmjow replied tersely.

"Just be careful if you please. You're incredibly easy to recognize you know and the local vampire population would be more than ecstatic to slit your throat." The whiskey eyed doctor said with a slight quirk to his lips.

"And I know how ill humored _you _are when it comes to being put back together…" He continued, his humor darkening at a memory replaying in his dark and twisting mind.

"If they can get that close, without me realizing, then I deserve whatever they can deal out. Trust me; I'll be more than fine."

**…**

**…**

With a groan that was reminiscent of the sound old hinges on a heavy door being opened slowly, Ichigo was brought back to the world of the waking. Head swimming in lingering absinthe and other alcoholic substances, the young man shivered in his bed. Joints aching and stomach churning, he rolled over to discover his bed was a futon on the floor. Slowly opening his eyes, Ichigo winced as the bright light stabbed mercilessly into his overly sensitive orbs. Already he could feel a headache coming on as his chocolate gaze squinted and watered at the fierce light.

It took him a moment to realize that he was in the front room of Shinji's apartment. Slowly and with the care of an injured man, he sat up to survey his surroundings more properly. He was in his boxers and shirt from the night before while his shoes, socks, pants and the vest he'd borrowed from Shinji were strewn all over the apartment starting at the front door and leading up to where he had recently been laying. There was an old comforter rumpled up near his feet that was just as permeated as he was with the scent of his natural musk and the strong smell of alcohol.

Scrubbing a hand through his dyed locks, he tried to put all of the puzzle pieces that were the events of last night back together. It had been a crazy night, he knew that much. He could recall going to a newly opened club with Shinji and meeting the hot red head, Renji. Renji had bought him drink after drink and they even had a little drunken grinding session that was barely able to pass as dancing out on the dance floor. Then what? What had happened after that? There had been a rough hand around his wrist, tugging him out of the pulsating crowd of dancers and away from the alluring red head. Then it hit him all at once; as did the extreme nausea.

Stumbling to attempt to get to his feet, Ichigo scrambled towards the bathroom on his hands and knees. Clutching the cool, white porcelain, Ichigo retched his life away until his eyes watered and overflowed to give him the appearance of weeping. When he was finally able to take several breaths without the urge to purge the nonexistent contents of his stomach, Ichigo stood on shaky legs to hunch over the pedestal sink to rinse his mouth out with gloriously icy tap water.

"I see you're up and well." Came the yawning and tired voice of Shinji.

The blonde was clad in a similar fashion to Ichigo though sans the shirt. Grabbing a fuzzy pale green robe off the back of the bathroom door, Shinji stuffed his arms into it and wrapped it tightly around himself. Ichigo stumbled out of the bathroom to sit on the futon he had slept on as Shinji shuffled into the bathroom. Sluggishly reaching out, he grasped the comforter and cocooned himself in its soft embrace while Shinji went about relieving himself in the bathroom.

When his friend reemerged after washing his hands, Ichigo watched in the mind numbing haze of a hangover as Shinji went about making coffee. They remained like that in silence for a moment or so; Ichigo despondent with the persistent effects of the booze in his system with the blonde leaned up against the kitchen counter beside the coffee pot, eyes closed and an amused smile on his face.

It was the sound of tiny, high pitched beeps that came from a cell phone, hidden somewhere in the room that brought Ichigo back to life once more. Recognizing it as his own phone, Ichigo barely managed to force himself into moving towards the sound that alerted him to having a message. Finding the phone in his pants, he unlocked the touch screen and read the message that appeared.

_The fuck r u at? Lecture started 20 min ago._

The message was from one of his classmates named Tatsuki. She was a good friend, though a little violent and bossy at times. Had she not been such an extreme tomboy, Ichigo would have thought her to be a female carbon copy of Shinji due to the similarities in their personalities.

Brow furrowing in confusion, Ichigo looked at the time the message had been received. Eighteen minutes after nine. Looking at the clock on his phone, he stared dumbly at the device for a moment before it all finally sank in. It was almost a quarter after ten in the morning. Chocolate brown, bloodshot eyes widening in horror, Ichigo lurched to his feet as he began to snatch his clothes up. Haphazardly shoving the articles onto his unwashed body, the pseudo brunette frantically went about getting ready to sprint to the lecture hall at the university; hangover be damned.

"Where's tha fire?" Shinji asked, his amused smile morphing into a lopsided, toothy smirk of piano key teeth.

"I'm late for class! Why didn't you wake me?!" Ichigo nearly howled in panic as he shoved his feet into his socks to then follow up the procedure with his shoes.

"I told ya last night ta drink like five glasses of water and ta set an alarm on your phone but ya gave me a sloppy hug 'n kiss and demanded I tell ya a bedtime story 'bout pretty but evil and retarded fairies." Shinji said, not hiding his mirth.

Slapping the palm of his hand to his face, Ichigo groaned in embarrassment at the picture Shinji's words painted as he half heartedly objected to what the blonde was telling him.

"You are so full of shit."

"Naw, I'm not shittin' ya. Ya were pretty insistent so I read ya half a chapter out of one of those Twilight books Hiyori got me as a gag. Ya told me that Edward Cullen wasn't a vampire but a blood drinking pixie with deep seated possessive issues and abusive tendencies while Bella was subject ta psychosis and delusions of infatuation being real love. Ya get pretty wordy n' stuff when you're drunk."

Ichigo gave up on trying to get himself together enough to go to class as he turned bright red at Shinji's account of last night's proceedings. Sighing in defeat, he sat dumbly on the cold tiled floor as he tried to kick his alcohol fogged brain into action.

If he texted his professors now, telling them he would be spending the day to prepare for his debut at the concert tonight, he'd be excused for the whole day. He was an excellent student and could easily make up his missed days, making it assured that his professors would be lenient with him for his absence. Still… the thought of lying to his teachers to avoid going to class hung over had him feeling guilty beyond belief. In the end, his nausea made up his mind for him as he scrabbled towards the bathroom once more on all fours.

When Ichigo was finally able to pry himself away from the toilet after another grueling round of retching up the contents of his already empty stomach, he decided he'd lie in a puddle of nonresponsive muscles and soft blankets on Shinji's floor. He ignored the pointed smirk from his blonde friend that dripped with the dreaded "I told you so" that he knew was coming as he pulled his phone sluggishly from his pants' pocket.

Sending a mass text to his professors for the day informing them that he would be practicing the entire day, Ichigo tried to ignore the continued impulse to vomit. When he was finished, Shinji poured himself cup of coffee and went about making breakfast. Soon the tiny kitchen-part dining room-part living room was filled with the smell of cooking eggs.

Ichigo watched in a near catatonic silence as the blonde merrily hummed the tune to "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurhythmics, adding salt, pepper and diced chicken lunch meat into the pan. Finally adding a splash of soy sauce after turning the burner to his little stove off, he whipped up some minute rice in two bowls to then spooned the egg concoction on top of the steaming rice. In no time, Shinji had filled both bowls and thrust one of them as well as a pair of chop sticks into Ichigo's face.

"Eat and I'll spare you the 'I told you so' we both know you don't want to hear." The blonde smirked as he pulled up a rickety, old chair beside the window sill in the empty alcove to Ichigo's right.

Ichigo was shocked at how hungry he suddenly felt. Cautiously, he used his chop sticks to bring a small bite to hip chapped lips. The hot food slid over his tongue and in no time he was wolfing the dish down with incredible voracity. The food tasted divine. Surprised to find his bowl empty, Ichigo sat for a moment hoping the food wouldn't trigger a catastrophic event in his stomach. When he felt sure he wasn't about spew at the drop of a hat, he cautiously got up and made his way to the kitchen sink to rinse out his bowl before washing it by hand. Shinji already had a pile of dishes and Ichigo didn't want to add to it.

Once finished, he reached into a cupboard for a glass to get some water. Hand closing around the first glass he came into contact with, he pulled it out of the dark cupboard and made a face. The glass was bedecked with smiling, perky little creatures that barely passed for cartoon, pink ponies with colorful balloons on their prancing flanks. Turning, Ichigo made a face at his blonde friend for owning such a travesty. Shinji arched a serene brow at Ichigo as he sat on his window sill and chewed delicately before swallowing his last bite of breakfast.

"Don't be hatin' on the Pinkie Pie." Shinji replied to Ichigo's face that spoke of just how absurd he thought the glass was.

Shrugging and heaving a sigh, the fake brunette filled the glass with icy tap water and guzzled it down as though it were the nectar of life. Setting his glass in the sink, Ichigo sat down once more in his pile of blanket and futon and let the contents of his tender stomach settle; no point in pushing his luck.

"So what are we doing today?" Shinji asked as he sashayed to the kitchen to unceremoniously dump his bowl and chopsticks into the already full sink.

"Well _I'm _going home to do laundry and to practice for tonight. Also, I really need a shower and to check my email and stuff. I haven't messaged my sisters in a couple days." Ichigo replied.

Sighing dramatically, Shinji offered an over the top response that was something along the lines of "fine, be like that". Ichigo shook his head and let his lips quirk into a wry smile of amusement at his friend.

The blonde was so dramatic.

**…**

**…**

Lying in the dark of a spacious room on an opulently plush bed of blood red silks, Ulquiorra Schiffer tried to sleep. Being an insomniac vampire was a cruelty of fate. He had much on his mind. There was the matter of his missing blood bond Shuuhei, Luppi Artenor was growing far too bold for a vampire so low in the hierarchy and then there was Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, the ward of the once formidable vampire hunter Zangetsu.

The man had lost his life in a battle against Ulquiorra himself years ago. It had been a matter of self preservation as the hunter had threatened his life and that of someone he cared for deeply. After the hunter's death, his adoptive son took up the call of a hunter in an effort to exact vengeance. The blue haired monstrosity pursued him with single minded tenacity and had been looking for the nest of his coven ever since the death of Zangetsu.

There was a minute twitch of movement at his side that drew the ancient vampire's attention. Without even having to open his eyes, Ulquiorra knew Shirosaki was having a fitful dream. The ghostly white vampire had tossed and turned enough in his sleep that the sheets were twisted all around them like thick ropy ribbons of crimson contrasting with their pale skin. The man was a fitful sleeper even in death just as he had been in life.

Usually vampires did not dream and were as still as the corpses they should be as they slept. Occasionally though, there were vampires who could dream and the ghostly white sanguinary being beside him was one of them. Ulquiorra often wondered what it was his pale lover dreamt of as the vampire could never remember upon waking. Schiffer himself could not even remember what it was like to dream. It must have been nice, but then again it was pleasant knowing there was always a quiet and still place of nothingness he could retreat to where not even memories of his living life could haunt him; at least… when he was _finally _able to find slumber.

Ulquiorra rested beside his lover for the remaining hours of daylight, waiting patiently for sleep to come with silent welcome. When night fell and the sun suffered its routine death, he'd rise to the light of the moon and take care of the business of finding a new blood bond himself.

**…**

**…**

"I feel like a fuckin' idiot in this damn thing!" Nnoitra hissed, pulling at the sleeves of his suit jacket.

The long, lithe whip cord of a man was wearing a well tailored black suit with a borrowed teal tie from Grimmjow. His hair was pulled back from its usual place down around his face and up into a relaxed half topknot that made him look like some tribal chief stuck in the modern era. The look was completed with his standard white eye patch and his scowling face that bared his straight, white teeth in a grimace.

Grimmjow gave a half smirk and rolled his startling sapphire eyes in amusement. Running a hand through his wild and disorderly blue locks to wipe the stray fronds from his eyes, he sighed when the strands simply fell back into place in front of his eyes. It was a hopeless task getting his hair to do anything. Besides, the messy playboy look was in these days; wasn't it? The bluenette looked killer in his white three piece suit complete with maroon and white stripped neck tie that complimented the black lapels on his jacket. Silver and onyx cufflinks at his strong wrists and shiny black shoes, he was sex appeal in a suit.

"Oh stop your whining. You look fine. Besides, you've been given the eye quite a few times already, though that may be your sour face and the eye patch." Grimmjow said lowly so passerby attendees would not hear as they stood in a large ballroom at the Compton and Wilshire Hall.

The ballroom at the hall was decked with light pine wood floors and matching gilded baseboards that met with navy and cream striped walls that were broken in spaces by tall floor to ceiling windows on the south wall. There was a raised dais for the band that played simple waltz tunes till the time came for the attendees to proceed into the auditorium for the performance. A few couples here and there danced at the center of the room, but most stood in groups talking about trivial things like the elite socialites they were.

"This is the lamest party ever." Nnoitra sulked. "There isn't even a buffet table 'r anything. Just fruity wine 'n a bunch of stuffed shirts."

"This is just a reception before the performance. Intermission will have refreshments." Grimmjow said , trying to cling to the fading amusement in his voice. He had to agree… this was dull. No violence or vampires needing to be staked. In truth, the bluenette was just as bored; he was just better at hiding it.

"Well look at you lovely wall flowers!"

Without having to look for the source of the calling voice laced with amused derision, Grimmjow knew Szayel had found them. Meandering up in a blasé manner, Szayel smiled cunningly at his two friends. The pink haired man looked dapper in his charcoal gray suit and cream colored waistcoat. His hair was combed back from his face, yet artfully disarrayed at the same time, giving him a sleek but "just finished fucking" kind of look. Knowing the lascivious doctor, he probably just had.

"Well I'd ask one of you to dance with me, but Nnoitra's a lanky ape in a suit and I daresay that Grimmjow and I would prove to have too much sexual ferocity on the dance floor. We'd make even the straight gentlemen in the room sweat with lust." Szayel said with unrestrained amusement in a teasing tone that proved he wasn't serious.

"I'll show you ape…" Nnoitra nearly growled though his white teeth that ground together as Grimmjow snorted in laughter at his two and only friends.

It was then a bell chimed, signaling that it was time to all find their seats. Szayel had probably timed it like this on purpose. He had no use for parties like this either. All three of them could fit in here without a problem but truly didn't belong; well except for Nnoitra. He didn't fit in much at all beyond his attire.

Taking long strides down the sloping aisles of the auditorium, Grimmjow found his seat; third row right in the center. Smiling, he eased his way down the row of mostly empty seats to sit down, his friends following behind. It was then that Grimmjow got a sense of something wrong. Paused in front of his empty seat, he stood a moment listening and smelling, trying to sense what the wrongness was that he felt. He could hear nothing but the laughs and small talk of the others around him and smell nothing but warm bodies wearing too much perfume or cologne. Wrinkling his nose, he muted his senses to avoid the unpleasantly of what having over a hundred people all in room entailed.

Szayel and Nnoitra both caught his odd behavior, but the bluenette gave them both a look that stated all was fine. Without further incident, the three took their seat as the lights around them began to dim. The performance was about to start.

**…**

**…**

Shaking like too a taut bow drawn across the strings, Ichigo tried to take deep breaths. He was in a plain and simple all black suit that was standard concert wear and wringing his hands as he paced about. Moments before the, director had informed him that a wealthy and influential patron asked that the solos showcasing the most talented musicians be moved to the second spot of the evening rather than near the end. Meaning he played in the opening concerto and then his piece was right after that.

Still trembling slightly and feeling sickly, he could have sworn his hangover had returned with a vengeance if he hadn't known better. The heavy curtains were still closed, hiding and protecting form the world beyond like a velvet womb. Quietly creeping along the stage with his instrument in hand to sit where the first violins sat, Ichigo perched in his folding chair among his peers and tried to not hyperventilate. He was in the edge seat of the second row of his section, meaning he was in full view of the audience and up front near the conductor.

Shinji was grinning like a moron on the other side of the conductor's podium in the very first row of the cello section. Putting his hands up where Ichigo could see, he knocked his fists together and made an imaginary gun out of his pointer and middle finger, his thumb cocked back as the imaginary weapon kicked back.

_Knock 'em dead._

It was he and Shinji's way of wishing each other luck in silence. Smiling and returning the ritual gesture that insured the gods would favor them (or something like that) Ichigo tried to quell his jangling nerves. It would be just fine.

Suddenly, the stage manager appeared with her clipboard and headset, raising a hand up high, signaling the curtain would be rising soon. The conductor, an austere looking man with shoulder length black hair, disapproving indigo eyes and a superior look of disgust on his face took his spot at the podium, facing the curtain.

All too soon, the velvet womb that protected him was swept away and he was bared to the world outside, bright lights blinding him for a brief moment causing a second of adrenaline and panic. Refusing to look out at the audience, Ichigo sat up straight and proper and kept his eyes on either his music or his conductor.

The conductor, waited for the polite inductor applause to fade before bowing to the audience and turning his back on them to give the musicians before him a fierce scowl that demanded their very best at every second that curtain was up. Rolling his shoulders and plucking at his sleeves to allow him the freedom of movement to conduct, the black haired man raised his hands high as though he were consulting the heavens.

Breath held and muscles tensed, not a single musician moved until his hands descended in the abrupt and nearly violent cue to begin the first piece.

The first violins, cellos and violas took up the first movement of the fast paced and entrancing piece. Followed by the second violins and the basses and contra basses, the pieced evolved into something alive and dark.

The tone was urgent and almost sinister the way the violins reach a crescendo shrilly as if to emulate a cry as the basses, contra basses and cellos lent to the deeper notes giving the piece balance. Ichigo closed his eyes, playing the song by muscle memory alone as he began to lose himself in the staccato and abrupt melody. It was dark, brooding yet exciting making him feel as though he were dancing with the devil; indulging in destructive pleasures and temptations portrayed by the reckless tempo and devilish melody.

Just as quickly as the piece began, it ended. Pausing in his stance, sitting up tall, violin cradled close and bow poised mere centimeters above the strings, Ichigo asked in the sudden yet short lived silence just before the storm of applause broke out.

The first curtain fell forward to shield them and they were up and moving swiftly and silently from their seats. As the second curtain drew across the stage form the left and right to hide the seats of the orchestra, a stage hand ninja'd his way over to Ichigo and placed a music stand and folding chair before him on center stage while another stage hand did the same for the cellist that would prove the accompaniment for the piece he was about to play. The young man and his cohort disappeared as quickly as they had appeared leaving Ichigo standing prim and proper before the chair with his violin in hand while the cellist took his seat and gave Ichigo a quick smile of reassurance. Resisting the urge to vomit and refusing to think of what was about to happen, the pseudo brunette took a deep breath and waited as the curtain opened and the sea of clapping hands silenced.

Bared to the unseen multitude of faces in the face of the blinding stage lights, Ichigo felt so surrounded yet utterly alone at the same time. Bowing a little stiffly, he sat down and looked at the sheet of music before him. It was his abbreviated notes of what to play as he couldn't turn the pages whilst he played, written in his own hand, but the markings on the page looked like an alien script to him all of the sudden. Feeling as though he had taken too long already, he took a calming breath and shut his eyes tight.

Raising his old, trusty yet lovely instrument of maple and spruce up to hold it close like a long time lover, Ichigo hung his head and drew the bow of horse hair across the waiting strings.

Slow and languorous he began with the cellist keeping perfect pace with him. Just like all the times he had practiced, he let the music flow into him and guide his movements. Imaging his world of fantasy and stories, he saw the swirling colors and imagined the lone, attractive male figure worshipped by an adoring lover that would not satiate the dapper and refined Adonis' tastes.

The song was filled with a sultry yet melancholy longing for something unknown. He could feel himself become weary with the stagnant and dreary day to day aspects of life as though he shared the thoughts of the imaginary and broodingly handsome man from his mind. He felt a smile play along his lips as he and the cellist exchanged their melodies and harmonies back and forth in three quarter time. His whole body began to sway as he slowly stood from his seat to move with the music. His playing became more and more impassioned as he reached the crescendo of the piece.

Letting the mysteriously dark yet tempestuous melody take hold of him with a lust for more, he played like a man possessed, savoring every moment of his fantasy world that his playing brought forth. Cocooned in the music made, Ichigo finally felt the morose close of the piece nearing as he wound it down to end on a longing note that left him feeling finished yet unfulfilled, like a man whose thirst could never be slaked.

Silence took over the auditorium… longer than Ichigo had expected. Opening his eyes with a flutter of his ginger spice lashes, he looked out at the audience and found his eyes captured for a brief second by an azure gaze before the entire room was on its feet applauding madly.

Blushing for a moment as he struggled his the sudden and intense feeling of lust, Ichigo held his impassive face and bowed before the curtain closed around him like comforting arms to protect him from that wild outside world that clapped madly for him and his cellist. Looking to the cellist, the man smiled warmly at him before they were ushered back behind the second curtain to make way for the next soloist. Seeing Shinji waltz up, his cello in hand, Ichigo gave the blonde the thumbs up and sent out a wave up nervous yet excited energy for his friend, wishing him luck.

Sitting down in his seat among the first violins, they smiled and lightly clapped him on the back as one of them handed him a bottle of water. This is was the most alive and exhilarated Ichigo had ever felt.

**…**

**…**

"Well, wasn't he delicious?" Szayel murmured in Grimmjow's ear as the curtain closed around the young man with dyed auburn, spiky locks.

Grimmjow applauded loudly with the rest of the attendees in the auditorium as his eyes remained glued on the stage. Grimmjow couldn't believe that the young man he had just seen play his heart out on stage was the same guy he had almost hit with car the other day. It was all too intriguing and serendipitous. The bluenette was more than tempted to bring the young man home for more than conversation or music, but his life was too complicated for even a one night stand.

Seated once more, the curtain rose to reveal a willowy and lithe blonde young man sitting in a folding chair holding a cello with a music stand before him. Looking out at the audience with a cocky smirk, he glanced at his music and then focused his attention on his instrument and began to play the prelude suite to Bach's most famous cello piece. Despite the talent of the young artist before him on stage, Grimmjow found his attention lingering at the curtain, as if to pierce beyond it to seek out the young violinist that the paper program in his hand told him was named Ichigo Kurosaki.

Smooth, lightly tanned skin, tawny brown eyes flecked with gold and those slim hands and long fingers the deftly caressed and commanded the instrument he had held. In the opening piece, the Danse Macabre, the bluenette hadn't really noticed the young man. It was as though while playing with the rest of the orchestra, he had been holding himself back rather than shining like he so naturally did during his solo.

So wrapped up in his musings about the young violinist he was, that he did not realize the blonde cellist had finished his solo. Clapping woodenly as everyone applauded the young man, Grimmjow watched yet another young soloist come on stage.

The sheer amount of lucky coincidence was baffling to the blue haired man. As a rule he never believed in coincidence, yet neither did he believe in fate. He preferred to believe that he controlled his life and destiny. Yet in this small place, here was that young man. So persistently he seemed to dog Grimmjow. Ever since the chance encounter when the bluenette had almost ran the kid down, Grimmjow had been seeing that face over and over in his dreams.

Brows knitting in disapproval.

A mouth pursed and tightened in what was more than likely anger.

Chocolate eyes burning with scathing, unsaid words.

Tawny skin that covered a slender yet muscular neck to disappear behind the soft cotton shirt that clung to a slight, wiry frame.

And those long legs…

Grimmjow growled inwardly at himself as a form of chastising. This level of attraction to a single person was a weakness and a distraction that most definitely did not need. In his glassy eyed reverie about the young man, three more soloists had come and gone. Much to the bluenette's consternation, the young brunette was once more on stage with a larger group to accompany him. Two cellos, a bass, two second violins and two violas flanked him as he stood tall before a music stand.

The audience had gone into a hushed state of anticipation as the musicians took but a few seconds to prepare. Slowly, quietly, music began to wind forth from the artists and their instruments.

Dulcet, somber and enigmatic.

The tones wafted through the air to his ears as the violinist he was so entranced by began to pick up speed. The piece grew from something almost mournful to something forbidden and shadowy yet strangely upbeat and superior. Grimmjow recognized the song for the Devil's Trill by Tartini. It was such an advanced piece that the bluenette was amazed by the level of skill the young man showed as he led the group. It was as though the other musicians followed his lead and took their cues from the melodic and wanton cries of the violin that was stroked and caressed by masterful hands.

When the piece came to an end, Grimmjow stood with the many other of the audience and applauded intently as his gaze pierced the young violinist named Ichigo Kurosaki. The young man surprised him by staring back just as fiercely for a single brief moment before turning away quickly as the curtain fell.

"Ya might not believe it, 'nd I wasn' so sure at first… but that's the kid that Abarai tried to snag at the bar."

Nnoitra said low, next to his perked ears.

Remembering his feeling of something wrong, Grimmjow slowly took his seat and almost snarled. It was more than likely that Schiffer had demanded information from the human trafficker that supplied his coven with blood bonds… and it was more than a possibility that the son of a bitch had said something of the young man to the coven leader.

Meaning it was highly probable that Ulquiorra Schiffer could be here now.

He wanted a young, talented musician. Whether he knew Ichigo was to be here or not wasn't really the thing; what better place to look for a talented young musician than at a high end recital put on by an orchestra that worked directly with the local university?

"Keep your senses sharp then. There is a high chance we've got company in here." Grimmjow said in near guttural tones.

"Would you have not smelled or sensed them?" Szayel said in hushed whispers as the curtain fell and the lights slowly began to come up. A man in a suit with graying hair at his temples to the stage and began to drone on about the young talent from the university.

"Not in a small room this full of so many people. Far enough away, their scent could easily be masked. There are too many people in here for me to feel anything."

"I can go walk around…" Nnoitra replied, his lips quirking into a murderous smirk full of trouble.

"Not a chance. The last thing we need is human casualties and to cause a scene. The authorities only complicate things and you're a catastrophe waiting to happen."

Nnoitra sulked at Grimmjow's words but remained where he was in his seat.

The stuffed shirt on stage had finally finished his piece which was met with polite applause. It was time for intermission and Grimmjow was going to do his damndest to put some feelers out to see if there was indeed a parasite corpse or too among the audience tonight.

**…**

**…**

**And 'ze plot thickens... :P**

**To anyone who was curious about what musical pieces inspired me for this check out the Devil's Trill on Youtube as well as Jyoou no Kumo and Danse Macabre from the Kurotshitsuji anime. Jyoou no Kumo is what plays in my head whenever I think of our dapper version of Grimmjow in this story.**

**Also, don't forget to feed the writer, leave a review. :D**

**~Aurelia**


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